


Chosen

by Zinoviev



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action Dueling, Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Double Agents, Drama, F/M, Gray Jedi, Jedi Shmi Skywalker, Mother-Son Relationship, Mystery, References to Depression, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 207,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinoviev/pseuds/Zinoviev
Summary: Shmi Skywalker had always been a dutiful and obedient Jedi Knight who, for the most part, never dared oppose the will of the Council. All this changes, however, when she is chosen for a mission to investigate a powerful disturbance in the Force on the desert planet of Jakku. What she encounters there will flip her life upside down and force her to make an impossible choice.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> At some point, I'm going to take the plunge and scour through this massive manuscript and edit it to my liking. I love this story, but the writing is cumbersome and overwrought. I've evolved a lot as a writer in the past year, so feel free to check out my newer work if you feel so inclined.

_42 BBY – Coruscant_

Shmi stifled a yawn as she struggled to keep her eyes from glazing over. Nodding occasionally in an attempt to pretend as if she was following the conversation, Shmi glanced surreptitiously beyond the senator's head. From across the ballroom, she saw him, engaged in a lively conversation with fellow Jedi Master Yarael Poof. He had always been a natural at these tedious social events. He was a master socializer whereas she had always been crippling introverted. Perhaps that was why they had been so attracted to each other. Perhaps that was why they loved each other so much in spite of the obstacles to their relationship. Opposites attract, so the adage went.

Shmi smiled subtly as she returned her attention to the senator who had ceased droning and was looking at her expectantly. Blinking a few times, Shmi felt panic rise within her. Was she supposed to say something? Had the senator asked her something?

"Knight Skywalker?" the senator asked. "Did you hear me?"

Mortified, Shmi cleared her throat and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Senator," she said. "I must have drifted off for a second."

The urbane senator smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "That's quite alright, my dear," he said. "I'm sure you are tired after you long mission. Forgive me for boring you." Shmi opened her mouth to insist the contrary, but the senator stopped her by holding up his right hand. "I understand, truly," he said. "As a senator, I have to be away from home for months on end as well. I can tell that you'd much rather be home than forced to talk with me."

Shmi smiled sheepishly and looked away, her cheeks tinged red with embarrassment. Unsure what to say, Shmi pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"How long have you been away?" the senator asked casually.

"Six months," Shmi told him.

"I see," the senator said. "My condolences. I would go crazy if I was unable to visit my home world for that long."

"And where is your home world, Senator?" Shmi asked, feeling a surge of triumph at being able to continue the conversation without assistance.

The senator smiled wistfully and looked away for a moment. "Naboo," he said with a small sigh. "The most beautiful planet in the galaxy."

Shmi gave the senator an unadulterated smile. Although it was true that she would rather be home right now, she couldn't deny that she was charmed by the debonair Senator Palpatine. It was far easier to talk to him than it was with most of the other senators.

"Anyway, I will let you be," Palpatine said with a charismatic grin. "Again, congratulations on your successful mission. You truly are a rising star in the Jedi Order."

"Thank you, Senator," Shmi said with a bow of her head.

Palpatine extended his hand to her. "I will continue to watch your career with great interest," he told her as they shook hands. Shmi hesitated for a moment as Palpatine's eyes glinted hungrily. It was a barely perceptible shift, but Shmi caught it nonetheless. Disquieted, Shmi released the senator's hand quickly and stood up straight.

The smile plastered on Palpatine's face wavered for a moment as he noticed her discomfort. He recovered quickly, however, and offered his congratulations once again before drifting away. Shmi watched him leave curiously. Dismissing her disconcertion as being a result of her exhaustion, Shmi looked away to see her husband striding toward her. Shmi bit down hard on her tongue in order to prevent herself from smiling broadly at him. It had been six months since they had last seen each other. She desperately wanted to run into his arms, but she knew she couldn't do that. They were both members of the Jedi Order. It was of paramount importance that their relationship be kept secret.

Her husband was far less insistent on keeping their marriage hidden, however. He had made it explicitly clear that he was willing to leave the Order for her. Shmi refused to condone his sentiments, however. The Order meant everything to her. All her life, she had aspired to become a Jedi Master. Nothing, not even her love for her husband, would deter her from that goal. It was only out of his respect for her wishes that her husband had not attempted to force her hand and get them to leave the Order. Yet she knew that this was difficult on him. Whereas she yearned to become a Master, he wanted nothing more than to have a family.

It wasn't as if she didn't want a family as well, it just wasn't as important to her as it was to him. Did that mean that she didn't love her husband as much as he loved her? Shmi constantly wrestled with this question. After all, he was willing to sacrifice his goals for her while she was unwilling to do the same for him. She would tell herself that it wasn't her fault that their goals were mutually exclusive. It wasn't her fault that the Jedi Code prevented them from being able to live freely together. Nonetheless, she felt horribly guilty.

"Want to get out of here?" he asked when he reached her, his blue eyes sparkling suggestively.

Shmi frowned at him with mock sternness. "We can't leave together," she said. "You know the rule, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon sighed exasperatedly. "It's been six months, Shmi!" he complained.

"You can follow me after five minutes," she told him. "It will look suspicious if we leave together."

"Would it really?" Qui-Gon asked. "Everyone here thinks we're friends anyway."

Shmi rolled her eyes, amused more so than she was irritated by his obstinacy. "I know that, but it's best to be careful," she said. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching them, Shmi took a step toward him. Rising up onto her toes, she whispered into his ear: "Besides, I won't be able to keep my hands off you if we leave together right now."

Qui-Gon gulped loudly and blinked a few times, clearly surprised by her forwardness. She had never been one to act salaciously with Qui-Gon, even when they were alone. Yet being separated for six months had evidently diminished her natural inhibitions.

"Very well," Qui-Gon said, his normally deep, mellifluous voice sounding higher than usual.

Shmi stepped away from him and gave him a demure smile. "I'll see you later, Master Jinn," she said, feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed in front of him.

"Likewise, Knight Skywalker," Qui-Gon said with a wink.

* * *

_One month later_

Shmi woke up early that morning as usual. Rolling over, she disentangled herself from Qui-Gon's sleeping form and sat upright. With a deep sigh, Shmi contemplated her husband's peaceful countenance with a small smile. They didn't often get the opportunity to spend the night together, yet fortunately the stars had aligned for them the previous afternoon.

She felt herself blush as she recounted the last night despite the fact that she was totally alone. Qui-Gon had been the only one who had been able to get her to loosen up. Without him, she was as uptight and reserved as they come. Beforehand, she had been an unrelenting dogmatist, utterly and completely devoted to the Jedi Code. It made sense for her to be this way. After all, her old master Mace Windu was renowned – or perhaps infamous – for his strict adherence to the code.

Qui-Gon, on the other hand, was anything but an obedient follower of the code. On the contrary, it seemed as if Qui-Gon went out of his way to test the limits of the code. As a Padawan learner, Shmi had resented Qui-Gon for his recalcitrance and generally unruly behavior. In spite of her obvious dislike for the older Jedi, Qui-Gon had begun to take greater and greater interest in her as they both matured. By the time she was in her twenties and a full-fledged knight, she had begun to thaw in the face of Qui-Gon's ebullient charm.

She had tried her best to prevent herself from falling in love with him, but in retrospect it seemed like her fate was inevitable. They both knew that they were made for each other, and Qui-Gon had made it his life's mission to win her over. Three years ago, they had been married in secret on the beautiful world of Serenno. The ceremony had been overseen by Qui-Gon's old master, Count Dooku. Dooku alone knew of their relationship and he had been remarkably generous toward them. Since Dooku had left the Jedi Order some time ago and had burned all bridges with the institution on his way out, they figured they had nothing to fear from him knowing their secret.

While she could acknowledge that her relationship with Qui-Gon had indubitably gotten her to relax her previously dogmatic outlook, she still revered the code as her master had taught her to do. Because of this, Shmi had been in a constant state of internal anguish for the past three years. How could she reconcile the two fundamental facets of her life when they were diametrically opposed to one another? Was it not terribly hypocritical of her to aspire to become a Jedi Master when she had so blatantly violated the code which all Masters swore to uphold?

Qui-Gon would always dismiss her concerns and insist that she was being too harsh on herself. He had been made a Master five years ago, and he didn't abide by the code in the slightest. Why should she force herself to do so, he would ask. She had learned to stop voicing her concerns to her husband. While she knew Qui-Gon did love her, she also knew that he wanted her to be someone she was not. He wanted her to leave the Order with him, and that was the one thing in the galaxy she would not do for him. As a consequence there was always an undercurrent of tension between them. Shmi knew it was only a matter of time before they had to address the fundamental flaw in their illicit relationship, and Shmi feared that day like nothing else.

Qui-Gon awoke with a start when Shmi's comlink vibrated loudly on the end table. Leaping toward the device, Shmi activated it and held her hand around the microphone in order to muffle out any noises Qui-Gon made. Part of her suspected that Qui-Gon wanted them to get caught, because it oftentimes seemed as if he deliberately tried to sabotage her efforts of secrecy. This morning was no exception.

"Knight Skywalker?" a familiar voice asked from over the comlink. "Do you copy?"

"I do, Master Windu," Shmi said as Qui-Gon began to plant light kisses up and down her shoulder, his beard tickling her bare skin pleasantly. "What is it?" she asked as she attempted to push Qui-Gon away with her left arm.

"The Council requests your presence at nine hundred hours," Windu informed her. Shmi suddenly yelped in surprise when Qui-Gon's hand began to drift south. "Skywalker? Is everything alright?" Windu asked.

"Yes, of course," Shmi said quickly as she jumped out of bed away from Qui-Gon's reach. Qui-Gon groaned in disappointment and collapsed back down onto his face, his arms sprawled out so that his entire wingspan covered the width of the bed. "I'll be there."

"Very good," Windu said. "Windu out."

Deactivating the comlink, Shmi spun around and faced Qui-Gon with her hands on her hips. Qui-Gon looked up from the pillow with a somewhat rueful expression. "You are unbelievable," she said to him.

"Oh come on, Shmi," Qui-Gon sighed as he flipped over onto his back. "I was just having some fun."

"That was Windu!" Shmi said, pointing to the comlink on the end table. "You know he already suspects something. Do you have no self-control whatsoever?"

"No, not really," Qui-Gon said honestly, his eyes roaming over her body unabashedly. "Especially not when neither of us are wearing any clothes."

With an exasperated sigh, Shmi leaned down and swiped the sheets off the bed, leaving Qui-Gon completely exposed. "Hey!" he exclaimed indignantly. Wrapping the sheets around her shoulders, Shmi gave him a triumphant look and spun away. "Shmi!" he called after her. "Give those back!"

"Why should I do that?" she asked as she marched over toward the dresser, the sheets billowing behind her like a cape. Qui-Gon shook his head, but didn't say anything when she dropped the sheets and began rummaging through a drawer for a nightgown. She could feel Qui-Gon's eyes on her as she pulled the silken dress over her head. Turning around, she contemplated Qui-Gon's own body for a brief moment before sending the sheets back toward the bed with a casual wave of her hand.

Qui-Gon made an indignant sound when the sheets collided with his face and forced him back against the headrest. Shmi chortled as she left the room, leaving a flustered Qui-Gon behind her as he struggled to extricate himself from the sheets.

A few minutes later, Qui-Gon joined her in the kitchen. Shmi looked up from her breakfast and smiled sweetly at him. "I take it you slept well?" she asked as her eyes drifted back down to her datapad as she resumed perusing the news.

"Always when I'm with you," Qui-Gon told her as he opened the fridge door. Shmi's smile broadened and the two fell into a comfortable silence. After a while, Qui-Gon sat down across from her with a glass of milk in hand. "What do you think the Council wants?" he asked.

"I don't know," Shim said. "It could be anything."

"I think I know what it's about," Qui-Gon said.

"Oh, yeah?" Shmi said without looking up at him. "What's that?"

"They're going to make you a Master."

Shmi snorted and shook her head. When she saw Qui-Gon's eyes, however, she could tell that he was being serious. "Do you actually think so?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Qui-Gon said without hesitation.

Shmi stared back at him silently for a few moments as she considered this. Was it possible that she was going to be made a Master today? Could it be that her lifelong dream was about to be realized? "That's not possible," she said, deciding it safest not to get her hopes up. "I'm too young. Besides, I'm not qualified yet."

"You're not qualified?" Qui-Gon repeated incredulously. "Are you joking, Shmi?"

"No I'm not!" Shmi insisted defensively. "I haven't done nearly enough." Qui-Gon shook his head and chuckled to himself. "What?" she asked. "Why are you laughing?"

"You are more qualified to be a Master than half the members on the Council," Qui-Gon said. "You can't honestly believe that you're not qualified?"

Shmi opened her mouth to offer a retort, but closed it again. If she was being honest with herself, she did think that she was qualified. She knew she was more powerful than most if not all of her peers. The Force always seemed to bend to her will in ways which it didn't to anyone else, not even Master Yoda. Her disposition to cautiousness and self-doubt, however, caused her to insist that she wasn't qualified to be a Master. She was too young, she would tell herself. Too inexperienced. Too unconfident.

Qui-Gon reached out and placed his hand on top of hers, his skin cool and a little damp from the glass of milk he had been clutching. "You deserve this, Shmi," he told her, his kind eyes sparkling with affection. "Don't let anybody, especially yourself, tell you that you don't."

Shmi sighed and looked down at their hands. "Well maybe so, but I don't think it's going to happen today," she said. "Maybe in a few years."

Qui-Gon retracted his hand and leaned back in his chair. "Well whenever it happens, it better happen soon. You belong on that council, Shmi."

Shmi nodded and looked down, her throat constricted a bit. There was the conflict again. There was the perpetual underlying tension. While he had kept it a secret from her, Shmi had found out that Qui-Gon had refused an offer to join the Jedi Council. When she had confronted him about it, he had insisted that he had only refused because he didn't want to sit in on 'all those boring meetings,' as he had put it. Shmi knew that the real reason he had declined was because of her, however. He knew that she had always wanted to be on the Council. Therefore he had declined the offer so that the seat would remain open for her should the Council decide to offer her the position instead.

It pained her to see Qui-Gon sacrifice so much for her when she had done so little for him. He was willing to sabotage his own professional career so that she could obtain her goals, whereas she was entirely unwilling to do the same for him. Part of her – a very small part of her – wished that Qui-Gon would fall in love with someone else. Someone who could give him what he wanted. Someone who would be willing to start a family. Yet Shmi knew that was impossible. Qui-Gon would never leave her, no matter what she did to him.

Shmi made a face when she took a bite of toast. It tasted rancid. Maybe the butter had gone bad. Dropping it back to her plate, Shmi pushed her breakfast away and stood up.

"What's wrong?" Qui-Gon asked quickly.

"Nothing. I don't have much of an appetite," Shmi told him absently, her mind still focused on her internal dilemma. "I'm going to go get changed. I have to be at the temple in an hour."

Qui-Gon nodded and reached out across the table to take her barely touched breakfast plate. "You mind if I eat this?" he asked.

"Sure, go ahead," Shmi said, still feeling queasy as she walked out of the kitchen speedily.

* * *

"There has been a disturbance in the Force. Have you felt it, Knight Skywalker?"

Shmi blinked a few times and looked away from Windu. "I can't say that I have," she admitted. "When did this happen?"

Windu frowned, his fingers interlaced together in front of his mouth. "Last night," he said. Well that explained it. She had been rather… preoccupied last night. Windu sat upright in his chair and stroked his chin pensively as he contemplated her face. "I must say, it is most surprising that you did not sense a disturbance of this magnitude."

Shmi gulped and shifted her feet nervously. She could feel eleven pairs of eyes on her. How much longer would she be able to fool them all? How had she managed to hide her secret for this long? She knew Windu was already suspicious of her, although there was no way he could possibly know the truth, could he?

"I apologize, Master," she said. "I will be more diligent in the future."

Windu narrowed his eyes but didn't probe any further. "We summoned you to this session to ask you to uncover the source of this disturbance," he said. "Perhaps it would be best if we chose someone else, however."

"No!" Shmi said at once. "I can do it."

"Skywalker has proven herself to be more than capable," Ki-Adi Mundi said. Shmi turned to the Cerean Master and bowed her head, thanking him for his endorsement.

"I agree with Master Mundi," Plo Koon said from the opposite end of the circular room. "Skywalker is the ideal candidate for this mission."

Shmi elevated her chin and stared back at Windu who still looked unconvinced. She knew that this was a huge opportunity. No doubt she would be made a Master if she succeeded and uncovered the source of this disturbance.

"Very well," Windu said, causing Shmi's spirits to soar. "You will go alone on this mission, Knight Skywalker. It is of utmost importance that you keep this mission a secret. Tell nobody of this assignment. Not even your fellow Jedi Knights."

"Very well," Shmi said, surprised by this unprecedented request. It was clear that the Council was deeply perturbed by this disturbance. "I will leave at once," she said, cringing internally as she realized how betrayed Qui-Gon was going to feel when she left without telling him where she was going. Yet she knew she couldn't tell him. It would be too risky to defy the Council so blatantly.

"Very good," Windu said, clearly pleased by her expediency. "You will go to the Jakku system. We believe the source of the disturbance is coming from there."

Shmi nodded her head and bowed to her former master. "I won't let you down, Master," she said.

"May the Force be with you, Skywalker," Windu said. "This meeting is adjourned."

* * *

"What do you mean you can't tell me?" Qui-Gon asked incredulously.

"The Council forbade me, Qui-Gon," Shmi said wearily as she folded a tunic on her lap. "We've been over this."

"But I'm your husband! I deserve to know!"

"I know that, Qui-Gon!" Shmi said, exasperation creeping into her voice for the first time.

"Then why won't you tell me?"

Frustrated, Shmi set the folded tunic aside on a pile and rested her forehead on her palm. "Why do you care so much?" she asked.

Qui-Gon sputtered indignantly, evidently flabbergasted by this question. "Why do I _care_?" he repeated. "I'm your husband, Shmi! I want to know if you're going to be safe wherever you're going."

"I'll be fine," Shmi insisted dismissively.

"You don't know that!"

"I'll be fine, Qui-Gon!"

"If you're so sure of that, why can't you tell me where you're going?"

Irritated by his persistence, Shmi raised her head and gave her husband a withering glare. "You don't control me, Qui-Gon. Just because we're married doesn't mean I have to tell you everything."

Nonplussed, Qui-Gon blinked a few times before responding. "What is that supposed to mean? I thought you couldn't tell me because the Council forbade you."

"They did," Shmi said. "But you are being too domineering over me, as well."

"Domineering?"

"Yes, domineering," Shmi said. "You're obsessing over me, Qui-Gon! I can't do anything without you having to know about it."

"That's not true at all!" Qui-Gon insisted indignantly.

"Yes it is! Ever since I got back from my last mission, you've hardly ever let me leave your sights!"

"Well forgive me for wanting to spend time with my wife whom I haven't seen for over half a year!"

"You know what, Qui-Gon? Get out!"

"Get out? Of my own bedroom?"

"Get out!"

Waving his hand, Qui-Gon stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Unclenching her fists, Shmi closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, calming herself down.

What had just happened? It wasn't as if she and Qui-Gon had never had fights before, but they had never been as explosive as that one had been. Shmi stood up and began pacing, waiting for her heart rate to slow down. Something inside her had snapped, and it scared her. She had never unleashed on Qui-Gon like that before. She had noticed that she was becoming increasingly volatile over the past months. Her moods were swinging abruptly and viciously, and unfortunately Qui-Gon had been the primary victim of her newfound mercuriality.

What was even more troubling was that she knew that she was entirely in the wrong. Qui-Gon wasn't being domineering over her; he had every right to want to know where she was going. She had intentionally fabricated something to criticize so that she could push him away. Why? Why had she done that? Qui-Gon meant everything to her!

Shmi stopped pacing and looked down at the floor, her hands rested over the back of her head. That wasn't actually true, was it? Qui-Gon wasn't the most important thing in her life, the Order was. Perhaps that was why she had gotten angry at him. Not because of what he had done to her, but because of what she had done to him. She was lying to him, in a way. She loved him, yes, but not in the same way he loved her. She meant everything to him, whereas he was far less important to her.

It pained her to acknowledge this, but it was true. Perhaps her conscience was telling her to push him away because she knew deep down that she was being unfair to him. He poured his entire soul into her, supporting her to pursue her ambitions even at the expense of himself. She, on the other hand, was unable to reciprocate his generosity. Qui-Gon deserved someone better than her. He deserved someone who could truly love and appreciate him.

Sitting back down on the bed, Shmi held her head in her hands and sighed. While she could acknowledge this truth conceptually, it was far harder for her to actually act on this. What would she do? Divorce him? Ask him to stop loving her? She couldn't possibly do that! Not only would it break Qui-Gon's heart, but it would devastate her. It was horribly selfish of her, but she couldn't imagine herself living a life without Qui-Gon in it in some capacity.

Aggravated by her seemingly incessant internal anguish, Shmi clawed at her temples and sagged her shoulders. How was she going to be able to reconcile her undeniable love for Qui-Gon with her overwhelming sense of guilt?

Resolving to address these issues fully when she returned from her mission, Shmi forced this gargantuan question out of her mind and resumed packing.

* * *

_Jakku_

When Shmi landed on Jakku two days later, she knew at once that something was amiss. It was as if the Force was screaming to her, begging for her to run. The darkness was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It was oppressive, repugnant, and perversely fascinating to her. What could possibly be the source of such an odious power?

Eager to uncover the mystery, Shmi commandeered a speeder from a local village. Promising to herself that she would return the speeder later, Shmi took off into the desert in the direction where she instinctively knew the disturbance to be emanating from. She squinted heavily as the sun set on the horizon in front of her, bathing her in intense purple and orange light. In spite of the ferocious late afternoon heat, Shmi felt colder and colder as she got closer to the source. She was utterly repulsed, but she persevered farther into the desert. This mission had to be a success! Surely they would make her a Master after this. They would have to!

After nearly two hours of driving, Shmi finally came to a stop in the middle of a sandy valley. On either side of her, limestone plateaus rose up and mercifully blocked out the fading sunlight, allowing her to cease squinting. Stepping out of her speeder, Shmi grabbed her lightsaber and activated it at once. The darkness was tangible here, swirling about her vociferously. Every fiber of her being told her to run, but she persisted nonetheless.

About a hundred meters in front of her was a small domed building. It hadn't been what she had expected to find, but she knew at once that this was the source she was looking for. Her feet crunched on the sand as she approached, her blue lightsaber held at the ready by her side. She wasn't taking any chances. Not in this place. Whoever resided in this place was no doubt an enemy. Shmi had no be ready for anything.

Reaching the door, Shmi hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. During her moment of deliberation, however, the door swung open abruptly, startling Shmi. Disquieted, Shmi looked around herself anxiously. Did someone know she was here? But there was no one around, and there didn't seem to be any cameras. Forcing herself to calm down, Shmi took a deep breath and peered inside the hut. A set of stairs descended downward from the open door, leading down into an impermeable darkness. Holding up her lightsaber, Shmi began to descend. Each step down echoed loudly and soon Shmi was entirely enveloped in darkness. Looking back behind her, she could no longer see the light from where she had come from.

Shmi was thoroughly terrified now, yet she continued onward. Down she went, one tentative step at a time until finally she reached the end of the stairs. Her lightsaber provided the only source of light, and without it she wouldn't have been able to know if her eyes were even open or not. She had never experienced darkness of this magnitude, in either sense. Suddenly, Shmi stiffened and looked up, her sightless eyes darting around rapidly. She sensed something…

"Who is there?" she called out, her voice piercing the oppressive silence. Predictably, she received no response. Taking a cautious step forward, Shmi held her lightsaber in front of her in a vain attempt to illuminate her surroundings. "My name is Shmi Skywalker, Jedi Knight," she called out, her voice sounding unnaturally high from fear. "I demand that whoever is there reveal themselves at once."

A voice startled Shmi so much that she literally jumped backward. "Shmi Skywalker," it purred. "Welcome to Jakku."

"Who are you?" she asked, her head swiveling back and forth, unable to detect from where the voice was emanating.

"You may call me Darth Sidious," the voice whispered.

"You're a Sith?" she asked, utterly petrified.

"I am," Sidious said. "And do you know what that makes you?"

Shmi froze, gripping her lightsaber so hard that her hands had gone numb and her knuckles white. When Shmi didn't answer, Sidious cackled caustically, the horrific sound turning cacophonous in the echo chamber. "That makes you _mine, _Shmi Skywalker."

All of a sudden, Shmi was struck with a wave of blue lightning. Screaming, Shmi was sent backward where she landed hard on her back. She only just managed to hold onto her lightsaber as vicious agony coursed through her. Electricity wracked her body, clawing at her flesh and scorching her organs. It was pain unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

Finally, the onslaught came to an end. Scooting backward, Shmi held up her lightsaber in front of her face. Her breath was ragged and her eyes were wide with terror. "Show yourself!" she bellowed into the darkness. "Fight me!"

Sidious laughed once again, causing Shmi to wince. "I don't have to fight you, Shmi Skywalker," Sidious' evil voice said gleefully. "In time you will fight for _me_."

"Never," she said as she struggled to her feet. "I will never turn to the dark side!"

"Perhaps not," Sidious conceded. "But you will give me what I want."

Cool sweat poured down her forehead and into her eyes, causing her to shiver. Her skin was clammy and covered in goosebumps. Backing away slowly, Shmi was startled when she ran into a wall. "Show yourself!" Shmi called out once again, panic rising within her as she realized she was cornered.

Sidious didn't respond. Instead, she felt her wrist twitch and her lightsaber went flying out of her hand. Stunned, Shmi barely had time to register herself getting lifted into the air by her throat. Kicking wildly, Shmi clawed at her neck in a desperate and ultimately fruitless attempt to free herself. All the while, Sidious was laughing, the horrific discord barraging against her skull. She couldn't breathe! She was going to die…

The pressure against her larynx relented, and Shmi took a deep breath of frigid air. Still suspended in midair, Shmi was forced backward so that her back was flat against a wall. Terror rendered her immobile, her blind eyes so wide that they were practically bulging out of their sockets.

"Let me go!" she pleaded. "I beg you!" Tears flowed down her cheeks and plummeted down to the ground. Her teeth chattered viciously and snot coated her upper lip. This was such a horrible way to die…

An abrupt searing pain in her abdomen caused Shmi to shriek. It felt as if her entire midsection from her sternum to her hips was on fire. The pain was even worse than the lightning. Surely she was going to die. Surely this was the end…

"You will give me what I need, Shmi Skywalker," she heard Sidious say, his grating voice sounding distant and garbled to her ears. "Because of you, the Jedi Order will finally fall and the Sith will rule the galaxy!"

"No! No! No!" Shmi wailed, her whole body shaking furiously with suffering. "Please, no…"

Finally, the pain ceased and Shmi felt herself drop down, yet her feet never hit the ground. Instead, she kept plummeting into the void. As the darkness enveloped her and swallowed her whole, Shmi finally lost consciousness.

* * *

_Coruscant_

"You mean to say that the Sith have returned?"

Shmi was swaying back and forth in the middle of the Council room, her eyes fixated on the floor below her. She swallowed hard and nodded her head, unable to meet her former master's incredulous gaze.

How she had managed to return to Coruscant was a mystery to her. She had woken up by the speeder and fled. She had been so sure that she was going to die that she had been in a daze ever since. Somehow she had managed to get off Jakku and return to the Jedi Temple.

"That is impossible," Windu said dismissively. "The Sith have been extinct for a millennium."

Shmi shut her eyes tight, desperately wishing that the room would stop spinning. She had no idea what was going on or what she was supposed to do. She felt violated, isolated, and so, so afraid.

"It is possible that this is not a true Sith," a voice to her right said. "Perhaps it is an imposter merely posing as a Sith."

"That is improbable," someone else said. "Who else could have produced a disturbance of that magnitude?"

Shmi drowned out the conversation and rubbed her temples with her index fingers. She still felt the oppressive cold lingering within her. It was as if heart was encased in an icy shell. She was repulsed by herself, as if somehow she was now carrying that same darkness within her. As if she hadn't really left Jakku at all…

"Great fear, I sense in you young Skywalker."

Shmi looked up sharply towards the voice. Directly in front of her, Master Yoda was staring at her with an inquisitive look, his wide green eyes narrowed curiously as he contemplated her face.

"What are you afraid of Skywalker?" Windu asked, his voice softer and more compassionate than normal. All of a sudden she felt like a Padawan again. Utterly unconfident in herself and desperate for her master's support and encouragement which he gave oh so rarely.

"He… he did something to me," she managed to say, her voice cracking with fear.

"The Sith?" Plo Koon asked.

Shmi bobbed her head and took a deep, stabilizing breath. "Darth Sidious," she said. "That's what he called himself."

Yoda stroked his chin pensively and leaned forward in his chair. "Hurt you, did he?" Yoda asked plaintively.

Shmi's lower lip trembled as she recounted the horrific event. Her whole abdomen still burned with a dull, deep pain. She felt sore all over but the most injured part of her was in her mind. She had lost what little confidence she had once had. Now she was broken, thoroughly beaten and devastated. "Yes," she finally forced herself to say.

"Recuperate, you must do now," Yoda said, bowing his head sympathetically. "Return to us when you are well, you shall."

Feeling immensely grateful, Shmi genuflected before the gracious Grand Master and spun around to leave the daunting circular room. Pushing the wide double doors open, Shmi took off down the marble hallways without truly knowing where she was going. She just needed to get away. Far, far away from the Council and from herself.

"Shmi! Shmi wait up!"

Surprised, Shmi raised her head and exhaled loudly in relief. "Oh, Qui-Gon," she said, rushing into his arms without hesitation. Qui-Gon received her without question, cradling the back of her head as she dissolved into tears.

"It's alright," he cooed gently, stroking her hair with loving tenderness. "I've got you. You're okay, I've got you."

* * *

_One week later_

Shmi was hyperventilating in the bathroom in the Jedi Temple. _This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening…_

Yet it was happening. It all made sense to her now. This had been the reason Sidious had let her escape. This was how he was going to use her.

He had raped her.

The very thought revolted her. She had never before felt so uncomfortable in her own skin. She felt tainted. The darkness within her had yet to abate and now she understood why. He had _impregnated _her.

It had all clicked in the most inopportune time. She had been sitting in on a council meeting being forced to discuss the great question on the Jedi's mind: the return of the Sith. Once she might have considered it a great honor to be invited to such an important meeting, but not anymore. Every time someone so much as said his name, Shmi would begin to shiver in disgust and terror.

She had been sitting in on the third such session when she sensed something within her. Two somethings, actually. The first had been that she had suddenly _really _needed to go to the bathroom, which was odd because she had already been three times that morning. The second, however, was that she had felt _something _latching onto her Force presence. It had been shocking, so much so that she had actually gasped out loud causing the entire Council to give her judgmental looks. Excusing herself hastily, Shmi had rushed out of the room to the bathroom where she had promptly thrown up into the sink.

Now she was holding a hand to her forehead, her other hand gripping the side of the sink to stabilize herself. It felt as if she was drowning. She was suffocating under all this strain and pressure. What was she going to do? She was pregnant! With the offspring of a Sith Lord, no less.

She had to inform the Council! They had to know what Sidious had done to her. But she knew she couldn't do that. She wouldn't be able to. She hadn't even been able to tell Qui-Gon the specifics of what Sidious had done to her. It was too horrible. Too fresh.

Shmi caught her breath when she felt it again. It was tugging at her through the Force, yet not in an unpleasant way. On the contrary, it was almost… endearing. This was her child, she realized with a start. It was relying on her Force presence to survive. It had latched onto herself, feeding off both her physical body and her metaphysical Force signature. Surely this was an unprecedented situation. Had there ever been a Jedi Knight who had been pregnant before?

Shmi stopped herself sternly. What was she doing? Why was she even thinking about this? This baby couldn't survive. It was the incarnation of evil! She had to kill it! She couldn't let Sidious' creation come to be.

But could she? This innocent, amorphous blob of energy had latched itself onto her. It was entirely reliant upon her; entirely dependent on her for survival. Sidious may have been responsible for its inception, but Shmi could tell that the baby itself wasn't evil. On the contrary, it was brilliantly pure and so full of light. She felt closer to this beautiful little creature than she had to anyone else in her life, including Qui-Gon. This child was a part of her. It was literally infused into her Force signature. She couldn't kill it, not without killing a tiny part of herself.

So what was she going to do? She couldn't remain in the Order. In a few months it would become clear that she was expecting. What would they do to her then? Would they force her to terminate the pregnancy? Would they expel her from the Order and take her lightsaber from her? She couldn't let either of these things happen. She couldn't let them find out.

What was wrong with her? She couldn't be hiding this from the Jedi Order! Her emotional attachment to this unborn child ought to be irrelevant to her duty as a Jedi Knight. That was what she had been taught, practically since birth. Attachments are forbidden! And yet she had married Qui-Gon in spite of that. She now knew that the rule against attachments was ridiculous. Qui-Gon had shown her that over the past three years. Her attachment to Qui-Gon hadn't compromised her abilities as a Jedi. On the contrary, he had heightened them! Without Qui-Gon, she never would have gained the confidence in herself which she had needed in order to develop her abilities. Her attachment to her unborn child was not something that she ought to resist. This child was going to enhance her life just like Qui-Gon had. The Jedi didn't have any right to take her child away from her!

Feeling as if she was going insane, Shmi clawed her fingernails into her forehead and screamed. What was happening to her? It felt as if everything in her life had been flipped upside down. It was as if she was still in that chamber on Jakku. She had no idea which direction was up or down and she was totally blind, unsure of where to go or what to do.

She couldn't kill her child. Of this, Shmi was certain. The logical part of her was insisting that she was making a horrible mistake by letting this baby come to term. She knew she was playing into Sidious' hand by allowing this child to live, but there was no way she would be able to abort her child. She was too closely attached to him or her already.

The question of what she would do next, however, was far murkier. It was clear she would have to leave the Jedi Order. But how? And where would she go? She had to go somewhere where Sidious wouldn't find her. Somewhere remote. Somewhere where she and her child would be safe.

And what about Qui-Gon? Shmi rubbed her forehead wearily as she considered this crucial question. If she told him the truth – the full truth – would he be repulsed by her? Would he despise her just like she despised herself now? The logical voice in her head insisted that no, he wouldn't be angry at her. Surely he would understand. But once again, she refused to listen to that voice. She was convinced that he would hate her. How could he not? She had rebuffed him for three years, refusing to give him the child which he so desired, and now all of a sudden she was pregnant with the offspring of a Sith Lord! He had every right to be irate with her.

No, she couldn't tell him the truth. She could lie to him. She could tell him that the child was his! He would be thrilled if she told him that! But Shmi knew she couldn't do that either. She couldn't lie to him like that. Besides, what would happen if he found out the truth? He would be furious! And then what would he do? He wouldn't be able to return to the Order, that's for sure. She would have singlehandedly destroyed his life and to what end? So that she could enjoy his company while she ran away from Sidious and the Jedi? Qui-Gon deserved better than that. He deserved someone better than her. He always had, and Shmi had secretly always known this, although she hadn't been willing to admit it until now.

She had to leave him. It was for the best, she told herself. While he would surely be devastated, he would recover in time. If she forced him to run away with her, who knows what could happen when he inevitably found out the truth. She had to tear off the proverbial band-aid. Maybe in time she would be able to explain herself to him. Maybe in time they could be reunited.

Brushing away tears, Shmi recomposed herself and took a long look at herself in the mirror. She hated herself. She hated herself for breaking Qui-Gon's heart. She hated herself for allowing Sidious to violate her like he had. She hated herself for being unable to do the objectively logical thing and terminate the pregnancy.

She hated everything about herself. And that was why she had to leave everyone else behind. That was why she had to disappear.


	2. Reunion

_Ten years later_

_32 BBY – Serenno_

"How are you, my friend?"

Qui-Gon bowed his head reverently to his former master. "As well as I can be," he said with a weak grin. Dooku reciprocated the thin, toothless smile and placed his hand on his former Padawan's shoulder.

"It's been far too long," he said in his deep, euphonious voice. "Come. Let us walk."

Falling into step with Dooku, Qui-Gon followed the former Jedi Master off the landing pad outside of Dooku's palace on Serenno. The overpowering scent of coaxium exhaust from his Jedi Fighter clashed pleasantly with the beautiful fragrance of Serenno's forests which stretched on for miles below the elevated platform on which they were walking. Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and felt his stress melt away. Serenno always had this effect on him. It soothed him, although never without an accompanying pang of nostalgia. This had been where he had been married. Thirteen years ago, this had been where he and Shmi had vowed to spend the rest of their lives together.

"How is your search going, my friend?" Dooku asked him as they stepped into an elevator. Turning around to face the doors which slid shut, Qui-Gon sighed wearily and felt his shoulders sag.

"Fruitless, as always," Qui-Gon said. "I have been too busy lately to be able to conduct the search properly, however."

"I am sure you will find her someday," Dooku assured him as the elevator began to descend.

Qui-Gon sighed again and inclined his tired neck, feeling a series of pops and groans as he did so. He had been searching for her for nearly a whole decade ever since she had disappeared, seemingly into thin air. The Jedi Council had been as confounded as he had been, yet after about a year they had conceded that Shmi was gone forever and had ceased their formal investigation. In spite of this, Qui-Gon had refused to give up. It was difficult, however. He couldn't use Jedi resources for his unsanctioned search. It would raise too many questions as to why he was so determined to find her. Sure, the Jedi had known that they had been friends, but it would still be odd for them to know that he was still obsessively searching for her a decade after her disappearance.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened with a soft ding. Dooku stepped out first and Qui-Gon followed him out onto a magnificent marble patio overlooking Serenno's coniferous forests.

"How is your Padawan doing?" Dooku asked conversationally as they reached the railing. Qui-Gon wrapped his hands around the marble handrail and leaned forward a bit.

"Well," he said, exhaling slowly out of his mouth as he relaxed his grip and stood back upright. "He should be ready to become a Knight soon."

"Is he still…?"

"Dogmatic?" Qui-Gon provided. Dooku smiled wanly and nodded. Qui-Gon shrugged and looked away toward the horizon which was for the most part obscured by dark green hills. "Obi-Wan is never going to be like you or me, Master. And I'm fine with that. If he wants to abide by the code, I'm not going to stop him."

Dooku frowned subtly as he looked down at his immaculate fingernails with a detached expression. "He is your Padawan, not mine," he said. "But I implore you to remember how I taught you."

Qui-Gon turned to Dooku, his eyebrow arched quizzically. "I cannot change who he is, Master," he said. "Obi-Wan is not a natural-born maverick like you or me."

"Neither was Shmi, if I remember correctly," Dooku said.

Qui-Gon winced and looked away. He so rarely heard Shmi's name said aloud these days that whenever he did, he would flinch instinctively. "Obi-Wan is his own man," Qui-Gon said, his voice sounding a bit thick.

Dooku relented and looked away with a sigh of his own. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and took another deep breath of the Serenno air. Qui-Gon understood why Dooku was bemused by his reluctance to mold Obi-Wan into a more free-thinking Jedi. After all, that was what Dooku had done for him. If it weren't for Dooku's training, Qui-Gon would never have been brazen enough to question the Jedi Code as blatantly as he had. Without his master's training, Qui-Gon may have never been bold enough to fall in love with Shmi and marry her.

But herein lied the problem for Qui-Gon. While he had managed to hide it, Qui-Gon knew that he was a broken man. Shmi had torn out his heart when she left him ten years ago, and he had never fully recovered from that trauma. While he still loved Shmi, he was also terribly bitter about what she had done to him. She had ran away without so much as an explanation.

In order to stay afloat during those first months after Shmi had disappeared, Qui-Gon had poured his soul into young Obi-Wan. He loved his Padawan like a son. Without Obi-Wan, and to a lesser extent Dooku, Qui-Gon would have gone insane with grief. It was because of this ardent, paternal love for Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon didn't try to mold him in his own image like Dooku had done for him. Qui-Gon didn't want Obi-Wan to be anything like him. He didn't want Obi-Wan to be hurt like he had been. He wanted Obi-Wan to be safe from the pain which had plagued him ever since Shmi disappeared.

If anything, Qui-Gon actually tried to steer Obi-Wan toward his natural proclivity for dogmatism and rule adherence. While Obi-Wan was undeniably a more obedient young man than Qui-Gon had ever been, he knew that Obi-Wan did occasionally have streaks of rebelliousness. Although Obi-Wan had never confided in him about it, Qui-Gon was fully aware that Obi-Wan had developed feelings for the leader of Mandalore, Duchess Satine Kryze, during the time they spent defending her during the civil war there. Qui-Gon couldn't bear the thought of Obi-Wan following in his footsteps by falling in love with Satine only to have his heart broken.

Qui-Gon was shaken from his musings when Dooku placed his hand on his shoulder. "Let's go inside," he told him. "Would you like something to drink?"

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and nodded absently. "Sure," he said. "Do you have Corellian Whiskey?"

Dooku frowned slightly, a flash of disappointment crossing his weathered face. He had never approved of Qui-Gon's penchant for such a cheap liquor, yet out of respect for him Dooku didn't voice his criticism. "Of course," he said. "Follow me."

Qui-Gon smirked slightly as he allowed his former master to lead him across the patio and back into the glamorous palace. He and his master were similar in some regards, but Dooku had always been a refined gentleman at heart. Qui-Gon was proud that Obi-Wan was more like him: humble and abstemious. Much to Dooku's chagrin, Obi-Wan had come to appreciate Corellian Whiskey much like his master. It was one of the few aspects of Obi-Wan's identity which Qui-Gon was glad that he took after him.

Reaching a parlor room, Qui-Gon took a seat on a plush green couch. A serving droid floated over to him and set a glass down on the coffee table in front of him. Thanking the droid, Qui-Gon picked up the glass and stirred the amber contents around for a moment. "What shall we toast to?" Qui-Gon asked, continuing to analyze the whiskey with detached curiosity.

Dooku took a seat opposite him on a leather armchair, his leg draped over his thigh with a casual elegance. Picking up his own glass of sherry, Dooku considered the question for a moment. "To masters," he said finally, holding up his glass to Qui-Gon. "And to apprentices."

Qui-Gon nodded lugubriously. "To masters," he said, raising the glass to his lips and taking a deep swig. "And to apprentices," he added, his mouth stinging as the whiskey coursed down his throat.

The two men sat in silence for a long while, each clearly deep in their own thoughts. Once Qui-Gon had finished off his whiskey, he set the glass down on the table and leaned back into the couch.

"What else is new with you, my friend?" Dooku asked finally, his own glass discarded on the table as well. "Last I saw you, you had just returned from Mandalore."

Qui-Gon sighed and craned his head toward the ceiling. "I have been assigned a new mission," he said wearily. It vexed him how reliant the Council had become on him and Obi-Wan. They were an efficient team, but Qui-Gon would much rather expend his energies toward resuming his search for Shmi. Instead, he was being assigned mission after mission by the Council. Obi-Wan of course didn't understand why he was so exasperated by the assignments. He had never told his Padawan about Shmi and he never intended to. The only person privy to that information was sitting across from him right now.

"Where to?" Dooku asked.

"Naboo," Qui-Gon said, his head sagging back forward as he looked at his former master in the eyes. "A conflict is brewing between the Naboo and the Trade Federation. Obi-Wan and I are being sent as diplomats on behalf of the Republic."

"I'm sure you will do an admirable job," Dooku said. "You always were an expert negotiator."

"I learned it all from you, Master," Qui-Gon said.

Dooku smiled warmly at him and leaned forward in his armchair. "The work is good for you," he told him. "It gives you something else to focus on."

Qui-Gon shrugged and looked down at his hands which were rested on his lap. "Perhaps," he said. Qui-Gon was silent for a few moments, his eyes unfocused as his mind drifted away. "How do you do it, Master?" he asked suddenly.

"Do what?" Dooku asked.

Qui-Gon raised his head back toward Dooku. "You left the Order over a decade ago," he said. "How can you function without the work?"

The corners of Dooku's lips twitched a bit as an unidentifiable expression glinted briefly in his dark eyes. "Oh, I keep busy," he said vaguely.

Qui-Gon was dissatisfied with this cryptic answer, yet he knew better than to probe deeper. He knew his former master well. It was clear he wasn't going to be able to get any concrete information out of him. That suited Qui-Gon just fine. He didn't really care what Dooku was up to, if he was being honest. He suspected whatever it was, it was probably shady. How else would he be able to maintain such a lavish lifestyle?

"When do you leave?" Dooku asked, diverting the conversation swiftly.

"I return to Coruscant tonight," Qui-Gon said. "Obi-Wan and I will leave for Naboo tomorrow afternoon."

Dooku bobbed his head and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I wish you the best of luck, my friend," he said.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said absently.

"You know what the Jedi always say," Dooku said sardonically after a brief silence. "May the Force be with you."

Qui-Gon snorted and shook his head. It was a ridiculous thing to say, and both of them knew it. "May the Force be with me," Qui-Gon repeated acrimoniously. "If it ever was at all."

* * *

_Three days later_

_Tatooine_

Qui-Gon squinted heavily as the odd group made their way down the sandy streets of Mos Espa. The suns were blaring down on them mercilessly, and Qui-Gon was soon coated in a sheen of sweat which trickled down his forehead and into his eyes.

"How do people live on such a barren world?"

Qui-Gon glanced down at the young handmaiden who was looking up him with earnest curiosity. He hadn't wanted her to come with them. She stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this. The Queen had been insistent, however, and Qui-Gon wasn't bold enough to defy a direct order from her.

"Moisture farms, for the most part, but also a few indigenous tribes and scavengers," Qui-Gon told her. "The few spaceports like this one are havens for those who do not wish to be found."

"Like us," Padmé noted. Qui-Gon glanced at her once again and nodded. They continued onward through the dilapidated streets, Jar Jar and R2-D2 following close behind. Reaching a small, dingy plaza, Qui-Gon stopped and looked around for a bit, holding a hand up to his forehead to fight off the morning suns.

"We'll try one of the smaller dealers," he said, eying a shabby establishment in the corner of the plaza. Padmé followed him as he walked purposely toward the shop. He didn't know why he had chosen this one, but for some reason it felt right. Inexplicably, he felt oddly confident that he was going to find what he was looking for here.

Stepping through a doorless arched entrance, Qui-Gon stooped a bit as he made his way into the shop. A pungent, musty scent met his nostrils as his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the shop. A soft dinging sound went off when he crossed the threshold, alerting the owner of the shop of their presence.

"_Hi chuba da naga?"_

Qui-Gon looked up to see a portly Toydarian flying over toward them, his wings fluttering rapidly in order to maintain his weight. The Toydarian's eyes widened a bit in surprise when he looked at them. They clearly looked like outsiders.

"I need parts for a J-Type 327 Nubian," Qui-Gon said as the Toydarian came to a stop in front of them.

"Ah yes. Nubian. We have lots of that," the Toydarian said in halting Basic. Turning around, he yelled back into the shop "_Peedenkel! Naba dee unko!"_

"My droid here has a read out of what I need," Qui-Gon informed the shopkeeper as he looked around the shop curiously. Qui-Gon looked up when he heard footsteps approaching. Scurrying down a short set of stairs was a young, blonde-haired boy dressed in mottled tan and grey rags. The Toydarian growled when the boy approached.

"_Coona tee-tocky malia?_" he asked, drooping down lower so he was on the boy's level.

"_Mel tassa cho-passa!_" the boy said defensively as he walked around the Toydarian toward the sandstone bench.

"_Chut-Chut! Ganda doe wallya! Me dwana no bata,_" the Toydarian scolded as he turned back to Qui-Gon. "So… let me take a thee out back, huh? We'll find what you need." Laughing throatily, the Toydarian turned around and flew over toward the stairs where the boy had just come from.

"Don't touch anything," Qui-Gon said sternly to Jar Jar as he wrenched a gizmo out of the Gungan's hands. Setting the gadget down, Qui-Gon followed the shopkeeper up the stairs. Stepping out into an open area, Qui-Gon glanced around pessimistically as he noted to poor quality of the parts strewn about in the junkyard.

"Here it is, a T-14 hyperdrive generator," the Toydarian said after they had walked through a crumbling archway. "Thee in luck! I'm the only one hereabouts who has one." Qui-Gon resisted the urge to snort at this obviously false statement. How naïve did this shopkeeper think he was? "But thee might as well buy a new ship," he continued. "It would be cheaper, I think." Chortling a bit, the Toydarian flew around and hovered casually in front of him. "Saying of which, how's thee going to pay for all this?"

"I have 20,000 Republic dataries," Qui-Gon told him.

"Republic credits?" he repeated incredulously. "Republic credits are no good out here. I need something more real," he said, making a gesture with his hand.

"I don't have anything else, but credits will do fine," Qui-Gon said confidently as he waved his hand in front of him.

"No, they won't," the Toydarian said at once.

"Credits _will _do fine," Qui-Gon said again with a little more authority behind his words.

"No, they won't!" the shopkeeper repeated indignantly. "What? You think you're some kind of Jedi waving your hand around like that? I'm a Toydarian! Mind tricks don'ta work on me. Only money! No money, no parts, no deal. And no one else has a T-14 hyperdrive, I promise you that."

Qui-Gon sighed and gave the shopkeeper a strained smile. Spinning around, he marched away back toward the shop in despair. What was he going to do now? He could look in some of the other junkyards, but without a way to pay for anything, there wasn't much point. He would need to find another way to get the parts they needed.

Returning to the shop, Qui-Gon strode past Jar Jar who for some inexplicable reason seemed to be juggling with a set of metal bolts. "We're leaving," he said tersely to Padmé who was listening to the loquacious young boy with polite patience. "Jar Jar," he added, looking back at the buffoonish Gungan with a disapproving frown.

Without a second glance, Qui-Gon stormed out of the shop and back onto the street. Taking a right turn, Qui-Gon ducked into a secluded alcove between two buildings and produced his comlink. Hurrying after him, Padmé gave him a stern look as she stopped opposite him.

"What happened? Why did you leave?" she asked with her hands on her hips.

"They won't accept credits," Qui-Gon said wearily as he leaned against the wall. "We have no way to pay for the hyperdrive parts."

"They don't accept credits?" Padmé repeated incredulously. "Why not?"

"Credits have no value on a world like this," Qui-Gon explained as he activated the comlink. "We need something tangible to barter with."

"But we don't have anything else!" Padmé exclaimed.

"_Master? Do you copy?_"

"Obi-Wan, we're in a bit of a dilemma here," Qui-Gon said into the comlink, holding up his hand to stop Padmé from talking. "We can't buy anything with the credits we have. Is there anything on board we could use instead?"

"_I doubt it," _Obi-Wan's voice said over the comlink. "_But let me check. I'll get back to you._"

"I'll stand by," Qui-Gon said as he looked up from the device. Padmé looked thoroughly terrified, her eyes wide as she stared back at him.

"What are we going to do?" she asked in a high voice. "We're going to be stranded here if we can't replace the hyperdrive!"

"Don't worry," Qui-Gon reassured her. "Obi-Wan and I have gotten out of far worse situations than this before."

Not mollified by this statement, Padmé crossed her arms in front of her and bit her lower lip nervously. After a long, tense silence, Obi-Wan's voice finally returned.

"_I'm sorry, Master," _he said. "_I don't think I can help you._"

"You're sure there isn't anything of value left on board?" Qui-Gon asked with a hint of desperation.

"_A few containers of supplies, the queen's wardrobe, maybe._" Qui-Gon looked up when Padmé startled visibly at this suggestion. "_Not enough for you to barter with, though,_" Obi-Wan continued, putting the handmaiden at ease. "_Not in the amounts you're talking._"

"All right," Qui-Gon said resignedly. "Another solution will present itself. I'll check back."

Pocketing his comlink, Qui-Gon made to walk back into the street when Jar Jar spoke. "No again. No again," he said, gesticulating wildly with his long arms. "The beings hereabouts cawazy! Wesa be robbed and crunched!"

"Not likely," Qui-Gon told the anxious Gungan. "We have nothing of value. That's our problem."

Qui-Gon took off into the street purposely despite not having any idea where he was going. He maintained the outwardly confident demeanor for the benefit of his increasingly distressed companions, however. Taking a left down a busy street, Qui-Gon frowned to himself as he pushed through the crowd. This planet truly was a dump.

"Qui-Gon, wait!" Looking around, Qui-Gon saw Padmé and R2 had stopped. "Jar Jar is in trouble!" Padmé told him.

_You cannot be serious, _Qui-Gon thought to himself as he turned around and marched back in the direction where they had come from. The Gungan was lying in the dirt, a vicious four-legged creature on top of his chest. Before Qui-Gon could reach them, however, the young boy from the junkshop appeared from around the corner and intervened.

"_Chess-ko, Sebulba,_" the boy said. "_Coo wolpa tooney rana. Me teesa rodda co panna pee choppa chawa._"

Qui-Gon hesitated, unsure if he should come to Jar Jar's defense or not. Curious, Qui-Gon decided to stay back and watch the boy instead. There was something enticing about this child, yet Qui-Gon couldn't quite identify what it was…

The bellicose alien looked up at the boy and growled. "_Neek me chowa, wermo, mo killee ma klounkee,_" he said. "_Una noto wo shag, me wompity du pom pom!_" Jumping off of Jar Jar, the creature stormed off on his back legs.

"_Eh, chee bana do mullee ra!_" the boy called after the alien. Thoroughly intrigued, Qui-Gon approached the boy as Jar Jar struggled into a seated position. "Hi!" the boy said cheerfully.

"Hi there," Qui-Gon said, eying the boy with interest.

"Your buddy here was about to be turned into orange goo," the boy informed him. "He picked a fight with a dug. An especially dangerous dug called Sebulba."

"Mesa hatin' crunchin!" Jar Jar insisted as Qui-Gon helped him to his feet. "Dat's da last thing mesa wanten."

"Nevertheless, the boy is right," Qui-Gon said to Jar Jar, struggling to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "You're heading into trouble." Looking back down at the boy, Qui-Gon gave him an appreciative nod. "Thanks, my young friend," he told him.

"But… but mesa doin nothing!" Jar Jar insisted as Qui-Gon turned away and resumed walking. He stopped, however, when Anakin called after them.

"Hey! Where are you guys heading?" he asked. Qui-Gon glanced back at the young boy's eager face.

"Nowhere, really," Padmé told him, an undercurrent of irritation evident in her voice. No doubt she had not been fooled by his façade of confidence. "We don't even know where we are, to be frank."

The young boy contemplated Padmé for a moment with a concerned expression. "It's not safe to be wandering these streets alone," he said. "I should go with you."

Padmé glanced at Qui-Gon with a questioning look, seemingly trying to gauge his reaction to the offer. "That's awfully kind of you, but we don't require protection," Qui-Gon told him.

Deflated, the boy turned back to Padmé, his brow furrowed in disappointment. "How about I get you something to eat?" he proposed suddenly. "You need to eat something, don't you?"

Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment as he considered this. "I suppose that couldn't hurt," he said slowly, causing the boy's face to light up with delight.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "Follow me," he said eagerly as he grabbed Padmé's hand. Surprised, Padmé nevertheless allowed the young boy to drag her down the street.

"Ow! Anakin, ease up!" she said, her laughter dulling the intended sternness.

Amused, Qui-Gon lagged behind with R2 for a moment. Stroking his beard pensively, Qui-Gon considered the boy for a moment. There was something familiar about him…

Jogging slightly to catch up with his exuberant guide, Qui-Gon glanced behind him briefly to see if R2 was keeping up. Excusing himself as he pushed past a boisterous group of three-eyed grans, Qui-Gon was able to keep up by following Jar Jar's distinctive, bobbing head. After a few minutes, Anakin finally came to a stop and released Padmé's hand. He had led them out of the busiest part of town and toward a small wooden fruit stand. Exchanging a few coins with the old woman running the stand, the boy looked up to see Qui-Gon approach them.

"Here, you'll like these pallies," Anakin told him earnestly. "Here."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said as he accepted the fruit, causing the boy to smile widely.

"Oh my bones are aching," the woman behind the stand said. "A storm is coming up, Ani," she added as she looked beyond them toward the horizon. "You better get home quick."

"Do you have shelter?" Anakin asked to them as he turned away from the old woman.

"We'll head back to our ship," Qui-Gon said.

"Is it far?"

"It's on the outskirts," Padmé told him as they walked away from the fruit stand.

"You'll never reach the outskirts in time! Sandstorms are very, very dangerous" the little boy said importantly. "Come on, I'll take you to my place."

Qui-Gon ducked his head as a particularly powerful gust of wind hit them. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea to let this mysterious boy help them, after all. Following him back into town, the group trudged on through the increasingly violent gale. Sand swirled around them and into their faces, forcing Qui-Gon to hold up his hand in front of his eyes.

While it was difficult to see, Qui-Gon was able to notice that Anakin had led them to an especially dingy part of town. Qui-Gon frowned subtly as he looked around at the rundown hovels. Wrapping his robes around himself tightly, Qui-Gon sighed in relief when Anakin led them toward an orange door. Upon entering a code, the door slid open and Anakin stepped inside.

"Mom! Mom, I'm home!" Anakin called out as he ruffled his hair, causing sand to pour down to the floor. Qui-Gon followed the young boy's suit, running his hands through his own greying locks, dislodging the coarse, irritating sand.

"These are my friends, Mom."

Qui-Gon looked up and felt as if he had been hit by a ton of bricks. There she was, standing right in front of him. Shmi Skywalker – the woman who he had been searching after desperately for a decade – was standing within arm's reach of him! How was this possible?

Qui-Gon blinked a few times as if to make sure that his eyes weren't lying to him. No, she was really here. His wife was standing right in front of him! She had clearly aged over the past ten years as deep wrinkles now lined her forehead and around her eyes. Nevertheless, it was definitely still Shmi. How could he not recognize the woman whom he loved?

"I'm building a droid. Want to see?" Anakin said to Padmé, utterly oblivious to Qui-Gon and Shmi's paralytic shock. Padmé, on the other hand, hadn't missed their odd behavior was looking at Qui-Gon with a curious expression.

Noticing her questioning gaze, Qui-Gon cleared his throat loudly. "Um… I'm Qui-Gon Jinn," he said, feeling absolutely ridiculous as he introduced himself to his own wife. "Your… uh, your son was kind enough to offer us shelter." Qui-Gon swallowed hard and stared at Anakin with wide eyes. Shmi had a son? When had that happened?

Shmi nodded faintly, her eyes similarly wide as she stared back at Qui-Gon unblinkingly. "That was… kind of him," she managed to say. She hadn't corrected him, Qui-Gon noted. That meant Anakin was definitely Shmi's son. Had she remarried? Or was it possible that…? Surely not! Anakin couldn't be his! Qui-Gon's eyes somehow managed to grow even wider as he considered the sandy-haired boy. He seemed to be about ten years old. Could that have been why she had fled? Was Anakin his son?

"Come on, I'll show you Threepio!" Anakin said enthusiastically as he dragged Padmé away down the hall, R2 and Jar Jar following close behind. The two stared at each other silently for a few moments, neither of them knowing what to say.

"How did you find me?" Shmi asked hoarsely.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth, but no sound came. Instead his jaw just hanged there, his tongue feeling dry and unresponsive. "I, uh… I didn't," he said finally. "I had no idea you were going to be here."

Shmi furrowed her brow, clearly skeptical of this answer. "I'm serious, Qui-Gon," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "How did you find me?"

"I swear, I had no idea!" Qui-Gon insisted. "Anakin was the one who offered us shelter." Shmi glanced behind her to where Anakin had gone, a worried expression painted across her face. "Shmi…"

She turned back to him sharply, causing Qui-Gon to falter. This hadn't been how he had envisioned their reunion being. He had expected her to run into his arms, not for her to do… whatever was happening now.

"I don't know what to say, Qui-Gon," she said finally.

"Nor do I," he admitted.

With one last glance behind her, Shmi took a step toward him. "Come with me," she whispered. Following her, Qui-Gon had to duck slightly to avoid the low archway. Stepping into the kitchen, Shmi pointed toward the table. "Sit," she ordered. Qui-Gon complied at once, pulling out a rickety wooden chair and taking a seat. "What are you doing on Tatooine?" she asked once he was settled.

"I didn't intend to come here," he told her. "Obi-Wan and I were on a mission to Naboo when –"

"Who's Obi-Wan?" Shmi interrupted.

"My Padawan," Qui-Gon said, feeling strangely hollow inside as he realized that he and Shmi were practically strangers to each other after all these years. Shmi inclined her chin but didn't say anything, allowing him to continue. "As I was saying, Obi-Wan and I went to Naboo to mediate a dispute between the Queen and the Trade Federation, but we were forced to flee. Our ship got damaged on the way out of the system, so we had to land here in order to get the parts we need."

Shmi narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she loomed over him. "So nobody told you I was here?" she asked.

"I had no idea, I swear," Qui-Gon said once again.

Shmi exhaled and drooped her head. "Well that's good, at least," she said.

"Shmi, what is going on?" Qui-Gon asked urgently. "Why are you here of all places? And why do you…"

"Have a son?" Shmi provided when he trailed off. Qui-Gon winced and nodded.

Shmi sighed and looked at him with a pained expression. "I'm so sorry, Qui-Gon," she said. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Qui-Gon stood up and reached for her hand but froze when she flinched. "Shmi," he said softly. "What happened? Why did you leave me?" Shmi shook her head and looked away from his glistening eyes. When Qui-Gon reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, she inhaled sharply and swiveled her head back toward him. "Shmi, you can talk to me," he said.

Shmi had opened her mouth to say something when they heard footsteps. Stepping away from Shmi quickly, Qui-Gon turned to see Anakin and Padmé had returned. "Do we have anything to eat, Mom?" he asked as he stepped into the kitchen. "I'm starving!"

"Anakin, don't say that," Shmi reprimanded sternly. "You know very well that you are not starving."

"Sorry, Mom," Anakin murmured, lowering his head.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have nearly enough for your whole party," Shmi said as she turned back to him. "Anakin and I live a humble life here on Tatooine."

Qui-Gon nodded and pursed his lips. Why had Shmi ended up here of all places? "That's quite alright," Qui-Gon said, attempting to keep his voice detached and formal for Padmé and Anakin's sake. "I have enough food for a meal," he said as he reached to his belt and produced five small capsules. "It's not much, but it will do."

"Oh, thank you," Shmi said, reaching out and taking the capsules from Qui-Gon's outstretched hand. "Thank you, Qui… I mean, thank you Master Jinn."

"Master Jinn?" Anakin repeated inquisitively. "Why did you call him that, Mom?"

Shmi cringed and looked to Qui-Gon for help. Unsure of what to do, Qui-Gon stared back at the boy with a blank expression, all the while considering whether or not Anakin could be his or not. They didn't look much alike if he was being honest with himself, but that didn't stop Qui-Gon from hoping. She wouldn't have had a child with someone else! Would she have?

"You're a Jedi Knight, aren't you?" Anakin said.

"What makes you say that?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I saw your laser sword," Anakin said. "Only Jedi carry that kind of weapon."

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, surprised by the boy's perceptiveness. "Perhaps I killed a Jedi and stole it from him," Qui-Gon said. Even if it turned out Anakin wasn't his, Qui-Gon couldn't deny that he enjoyed his interactions with the boy. Anakin had a quick wit and was remarkably shrewd for a child.

"I don't think so," Anakin said. "No one can kill a Jedi Knight."

Shmi winced once again and departed speedily toward an oil stove in the corner of the kitchen. Qui-Gon watched her briefly before returning his attention to Anakin. "I wish that were true," he said plaintively. Anakin frowned as he internalized this dark statement.

"Anakin, help me in the kitchen, would you?" Shmi said.

Little Anakin rushed to assist his mother without a word. Qui-Gon watched the pair with a mixture of awe and hurt. If Anakin really was his son, why hadn't Shmi told him about him? Why had she hidden from him for all these years?

"Qui-Gon? May I have a word?"

Qui-Gon spun around to see Padmé looking at him expectantly. "Of course," he said, following the diminutive handmaiden out of the kitchen reluctantly. Padmé led him away from the kitchen down a narrow hallway. "What is this about?" Qui-Gon asked when she came to a stop at the end of the hall in front of a closed door.

"What is going on in there?" she asked in a hushed voice, pointing her hand down the hallway in the general direction of the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked innocently.

"You know Anakin's mom, don't you?" Padmé asked.

Qui-Gon gulped nervously and shook his head emphatically. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"I'm not blind, Qui-Gon," Padmé whispered. "It looked like you nearly had a heart attack when you saw her!" Qui-Gon blinked rapidly as he searched frantically for an explanation. "What are you hiding?" Padmé asked.

"That is none of your business," Qui-Gon said tartly.

"I demand to know what is going on!" Padmé said authoritatively.

"What is between Shmi and me has no pertinence to our mission," Qui-Gon said tersely. "If you'll excuse me." When Qui-Gon made to walk away, Padmé reached out and grabbed his arm with surprising strength.

"I will not be dismissed in this manner," she growled angrily. "You should not be keeping secrets from me."

"Why is that, your Highness?" Qui-Gon snapped. Stunned, Padmé released his arm and took a half step back. "Yes, I know," Qui-Gon whispered fiercely. "I will not divulge your secret as long as you cease prying into my own personal affairs."

"Are you threatening me, Master Jedi?" Padmé asked incredulously.

"Keep your nose out of matters which don't affect you," Qui-Gon said viciously. "You will be safe as long as you are with me, Amidala. Shmi doesn't factor into that equation. Do I make myself clear?"

Incensed, Padmé's flared her nostrils yet she offered no objection. Giving her one last sour look, Qui-Gon spun away and marched back toward the kitchen. When he returned, Qui-Gon saw Anakin setting bowls and silverware on the table. Jar Jar was apologizing profusely about something while Shmi was down on her knees, sweeping away shards of glass with an exasperated expression.

"Mesa didn't mean to!" Jar Jar exclaimed.

"It's okay," Shmi said through gritted teeth as she got back to her feet and set the dustbin on the counter. "Why don't you just sit down?"

"Okey day," Jar Jar said sheepishly. Suppressing a grin, Qui-Gon stepped forward into the kitchen.

"Do you need any help?" he asked awkwardly.

Shmi pivoted sharply to see him standing in front of the archway. Wringing her hands, Shmi glanced at Anakin who was cheerily humming a nondescript tune to himself as he set the bowls down on the kitchen table. "That's alright," she said. "I can manage on my own."

"I'm sure you can," Qui-Gon said, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Shmi and Qui-Gon stared at each other silently for a few moments. Qui-Gon finally tore his eyes away when he felt his comlink vibrate in his pocket. Relieved to have a reason to leave, Qui-Gon excused himself and ducked out of the kitchen into the hallway. Padmé passed him on his way out, refusing to look him in the eyes as he watched her with a subtle smirk.

"What is it?" Qui-Gon asked acerbically when he produced his comlink and activated it.

"_Sorry to bother you, Master,_" Obi-Wan said, caught off guard by Qui-Gon's foul mood. "_We received a transmission from Naboo._"

"What did it say?" Qui-Gon asked.

"_It was from the queen's advisor, Sio Bibble. He said that the Trade Federation has been committing horrible war crimes against the Naboo and will not cease unless the queen returns. The Queen is upset, but absolutely no reply was sent._"

"It sounds like bait to establish a connection trace," Qui-Gon said as he leaned against the wall wearily.

"_What if it is true and the people are dying?_" Obi-Wan asked concernedly.

"Either way, we're running out of time," Qui-Gon said as he deactivated the comlink. With a sigh, Qui-Gon returned through the archway and into the kitchen. Shmi was using a ladle to divvy out the soup into the five bowls while Anakin talked animatedly with Padmé about something.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon mumbled as Shmi filled his bowl and set it down for him at the head of the table. Shmi pursed her lips and dropped the ladle back into the pot without acknowledging him. Qui-Gon watched her as she walked around the table and sat down on the opposite end.

"Ani, why don't you let your friend eat?" Shmi told her son. Anakin blushed and looked down at his bowl while Padmé flashed Shmi an appreciative grin. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Shmi said as Padmé took a tentative mouthful of soup.

"Padmé Naberrie," she said as she set the spoon down. "I come from Naboo."

"How did a young lady like you end up in Mos Espa?" Shmi asked.

"That's funny," Qui-Gon was unable to stop himself from saying. "I was going to ask you the same thing, _Ms._ Skywalker."

Flummoxed, Anakin looked back and forth between Shmi and Qui-Gon with dizzying rapidity. Shmi gave him a stern look and shook her head subtly. "Anakin and I are slaves," she said finally. "We were sold to Watto seven years back."

"Slaves," Qui-Gon repeated as he leaned back in his seat in shock. "Why?" he asked. "Why did you come here? Why have you stayed here for all these years?"

"All slaves have transmitters placed inside their bodies somewhere," Shmi said flatly. "We can't leave."

"That's not what I meant," Qui-Gon said icily.

"I know what you meant, Qui-Gon."

A tense silence followed as Qui-Gon and Shmi stared daggers at each other. There was so much he didn't understand, and that made him furious. It seemed clear that she didn't want him here. Why was that? What had happened?

"I can't believe there's still slavery in the galaxy," Padmé said, breaking the tense silence. "The Republic's anti-slavery laws –"

"The Republic doesn't exist out here," Shmi interrupted. "We must survive on our own."

"That's not true!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table causing Jar Jar to leap out of his seat in surprise. "You didn't have to be alone!"

Shmi clenched her jaw and gave him a warning glare. Refusing to be intimidated, Qui-Gon stood his ground and gripped his spoon so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "May I have a word with you in private, Master Jinn?" Shmi finally asked stiffly.

"Certainly," Qui-Gon responded with equal frigidity.

"Keep our guests company, Anakin," Shmi said as she stood up. "I'll be right back."

Anakin looked bemused, but he nonetheless didn't offer an objection. The boy was clearly very obedient to his mother, and Qui-Gon couldn't blame him. Shmi seemed to be an especially strict parent. Following his estranged wife out of the kitchen, Qui-Gon faltered when he realized she was leading him to her bedroom.

"What is it?" she asked him when he stopped awkwardly.

_Get your head out of the gutter, Qui-Gon, _he scolded himself internally. This was a tiny house. Her bedroom was probably the only place where they could have a conversation without being overheard. "Um… nothing," Qui-Gon croaked.

"Then come on," she said irritably. Ducking his head as he made his way through the door, Qui-Gon followed Shmi into the cramped room. The door sealed itself shut behind him with a soft mechanical beep. Shmi spun around and faced him with a disapproving frown. "What is wrong with you?" she asked.

"What is wrong with me?" Qui-Gon repeated incredulously. "What is wrong with you!"

"You're acting entirely inappropriately, Qui-Gon! I will not allow you to behave this way in front of my son."

Qui-Gon took a deep, stabilizing breath and recomposed himself. "I apologize, Shmi, but you have to appreciate how I'm feeling right now." Shmi's fiery expression relaxed a bit as she took a deep breath as well. "Please, Shmi," Qui-Gon pleaded. "Just tell me what happened."

"I will," Shmi said softly. "But not right now."

Qui-Gon bit his tongue to stop himself from objecting. "Very well," he said instead.

"I'll talk to you after I put Ani to bed," she said. Qui-Gon nodded and looked away, feeling his lower lip tremble a bit. He turned back to Shmi when she placed a calloused hand on his bearded cheek. "I'm so sorry, Qui-Gon," she told him. "I'm so sorry for what happened."

Placing his hand atop hers, Qui-Gon smiled weakly. "It's okay," he said. "We're together again. It'll all be alright now."

Shmi shook her head and took her hand off his cheek. "No, Qui-Gon," she said darkly. "It's not alright. It may never be again."

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked. Shmi shook her head again and pushed past him out of the room. "Shmi! What do you mean?" She didn't answer him as the door slid open and she rushed out into the hallway, leaving him alone in the tiny bedroom.


	3. The Podrace

_Tatooine_

"What are you all talking about over her?" Shmi asked with a forced smile when she returned to the table.

"I was telling Padmé about the podrace, Mom!" Anakin told her enthusiastically. "They need money to fix their ship, and I was thinking I could help them!" Anakin turned to Padmé, his eyes shining with excitement. "I've built a racer!" he said to the receptive girl. "It's the fastest ever! There's a big race tomorrow, on Boonta Eve. You could enter my pod. It's all but finished –"

"Anakin, settle down," Shmi interrupted. "Watto won't let you."

"Watto doesn't know I've built it!" Anakin said. Just then, Qui-Gon ducked into the kitchen, a strained look painted across his weary face. "You could make him think it's yours!" Anakin said to Qui-Gon who looked caught off guard by Anakin's effervescence. "You could get him to let me pilot it for you!"

"What is this about?" Qui-Gon asked her.

"It's nothing," Shmi said, giving Anakin a disapproving look. "I don't want you to race, Ani," she told her son. "It's awful. I die every time Watto makes you do it."

"But Mom, I love it!" Anakin complained. "And they need help, they're in trouble! The prize money would more than pay for the parts they need."

"Are you talking about podracing?" Qui-Gon asked as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"Yep," Anakin said with a bob of his round head. "Have you heard of it?"

"Oh yes," Qui-Gon said solemnly. "They have podracing on Malastare. Very fast, very dangerous."

"I'm the only human who can do it," Anakin said proudly.

Qui-Gon leaned forward slightly, his elbows rested against the table as he scrutinized Anakin's face curiously. "You must have Jedi reflexes if you race pods," he said.

"You think so?" Anakin asked.

"I'm sure of it," Qui-Gon said, glancing at Shmi briefly to gauge her reaction. Shmi merely pursed her lips and looked away. It wasn't as if this observation came as a revelation to her. She knew that Anakin was extremely strong with the Force. That was why she had to make sure he never realized his powers. That was why she had to protect him.

"So what do you think?" Anakin asked. "Will you let me race for you?"

Qui-Gon shook his head at once. "Your mother is right," he said. "It is too dangerous."

"But –"

"I will not allow you to put yourself in danger on our behalf," Qui-Gon said sternly. Anakin sagged his shoulders in disappointment and pouted petulantly at this dismissal.

Shmi considered her son for a moment, feeling conflicted on his behalf. She couldn't allow Qui-Gon to stay on Tatooine for long. It was too dangerous for her and Anakin. Perhaps she could sabotage the race in some way so as to ensure Anakin would win. It was a risk, but it was one she would be willing to take.

"No, Ani's right, there is no other way," she said. "I may not like it, but he can help you. He was meant to help you."

Perplexed by this sudden shift in position, Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

"Completely," Shmi said. "Anakin will not let you down." _And nor will I, _she added to herself silently.

* * *

An hour later, the sandstorm passed and the three guests plus Anakin departed for Watto's to see about inserting Anakin into the race. Shmi stayed behind and washed the dishes, all the while considering the wisdom of her decision to let Anakin race. She knew he would be fine, she could see to that. What she was less sure about was if it was a good idea for her to interfere in the manner she intended.

She had been able to remain hidden on Tatooine in large part because she had closed herself off from the Force entirely. It had been remarkably difficult, especially for a person as powerfully Force-sensitive as she was, but she had managed for Anakin's sake. It had made her entirely impossible to find through the Force, but now she was going to jeopardize everything so that she could ensure Anakin's victory. She was hoping that the inevitable disturbance she was about to cause would be too subtle for Sidious to detect, but she couldn't know for sure.

Setting the last bowl into a cabinet, Shmi sighed and placed her hands on her hips. She didn't have much other choice. Qui-Gon's sudden arrival had forced her hand. Spinning around with newfound determination, Shmi left the kitchen for her bedroom. If she was going to do this, she at least had to be able to defend herself.

The door slid open to allow Shmi entry. Walking around her bed, Shmi got down on to her hands and knees and reached under the mattress. Stretching mightily, Shmi managed to get her fingers on the cool metal safe and drag it out from underneath the bed. Standing back up and sitting down, Shmi placed the safe in her lap and took a deep breath. It had been a very long time since she had touched this safe, and the thin coat of dust on the rusted metal box was direct proof of that. Wiping away the dust from the keypad, Shmi entered the code and felt the safe snap open with a click.

Shmi smiled wistfully as she laid eyes on the sole possession she had maintained from her Jedi days: her lightsaber. Picking up the shiny hilt, Shmi set the safe aside and stood up. The lightsaber fit perfectly in her small hands. She had built it specifically for herself, after all. Her thumb hovered over the trigger, hesitating momentarily before she gave in and ignited the weapon. With a whoosh, the vibrant blue blade came to life in her hand. Shmi closed her eyes and relished the soothing and euphonious sound of the lightsaber's hum for a moment.

Shmi stepped out of her room and toward the foyer. It was the only space large enough for her to wield the weapon properly. Smiling gleefully, Shmi began to slice the familiar blade through the air in the calculated, precise manner which she had mastered all those years ago. Her body – which hadn't engaged in this type of rigorous activity in a decade – protested, yet she paid it no heed. It felt so good to perform these exercises after all this time. The movements came so naturally to her, the blade acting as an extension of her arm…

Shmi yelped in shock when the front door opened. In a desperate attempt to stop herself, Shmi lost control over her lightsaber momentarily and the blade went slicing into the wall, leaving a gnarly-looking gash mark in its wake. Standing in the open door was Qui-Gon, his mouth hanging open in shock as Shmi hastily sheathed her weapon and stuffed it into her waistband. Qui-Gon blinked a few times and cleared his throat before stepping into the house without a word. Shmi leaned casually against the wall to obscure the damage as Anakin and Padmé walked in after the Jedi Master. Fortunately, Anakin didn't seem to notice anything amiss as he was too excited about something to pay her any attention.

"Come on! I'll show you my pod!" he exclaimed exuberantly to Padmé. Jar Jar lumbered after the two children toward the back of the house, leaving Qui-Gon and Shmi alone in the foyer.

Sighing in relief, Shmi stepped away from the wall and yanked her lightsaber – which was pressed painfully against her hip – out of her pants. Qui-Gon watched her with an amused grin as she did this. "How long has it been?" he asked as she rubbed her hip gingerly.

"Ten years, more or less," Shmi said. "Does it show?"

"No, not at all," Qui-Gon said at once. "I mean, besides the giant slash mark in the wall."

Shmi snorted and shook her head good-naturedly. "Come on," she said. "I have to keep an eye on Ani. He might try something dumb to impress that girl."

Qui-Gon followed her silently down the hall. Stopping in her room for a moment to drop off her lightsaber, Shmi returned and led him up a set of stairs toward the back patio. Squinting as she adjusted to the bright afternoon light, Shmi could see Anakin showing off his podracer to Padmé and a group of other children who had gathered.

"Watto allowed Anakin to enter into the race," Qui-Gon informed her as he came to a stop next to her. Shmi nodded and closed her eyes. She knew he would have. Watto was too avaricious to let an opportunity like this to pass him by. "Are you sure he can win?" Qui-Gon asked nervously. "I'm betting a lot on this."

"Don't worry about that," Shmi assured him. "I'll make sure he wins."

Qui-Gon frowned and gave her a questioning look. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You'll see," Shmi said vaguely.

Qui-Gon turned to her, his back rested against the ledge of the patio. "Are you intending on sabotaging the race?" he asked.

"Maybe," Shmi said mischievously.

Qui-Gon shook his head and turned away from her with a smile. "I can't believe you, Shmi Skywalker," he said. "The woman I married never would have done something so bold."

Shmi's own smile faded as she drooped her head wearily. "The woman you married is gone, Qui-Gon," she said quietly.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when the engines to Anakin's podracer roared to life. Spinning her head, Shmi saw her jubilant son sitting in the cockpit with his overlarge goggles on his face. "It's working!" Anakin yelled over the awesome noise. "It's working!"

Shmi smiled a bit as Anakin turned the engines off and jumped out of the cockpit with a whoop. "At least tell me this, Shmi," Qui-Gon said. Shmi sighed and looked up at her husband's strained face. "Who is the father?" Shmi shut her eyes and sagged her head, unable to meet Qui-Gon's eyes. "It's not me, is it?"

"No," Shmi said somberly. "It isn't you."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and scrunched his eyebrows. "Who is it?" he asked, his voice stinging with hurt.

Shmi opened her eyes and looked back over at Anakin who was talking animatedly with his friend Kitster. "He doesn't have a father," she said. This was true, to an extent. She had long since come to realize that Sidious hadn't impregnated her in the conventional sense. She doubted that Anakin had any of the Sith Lord's genetic material, much to her relief.

"What?" Qui-Gon said incredulously.

"I didn't cheat on you, Qui-Gon, if that's what you're wondering," Shmi said defensively.

"What? No! I… uh… I don't understand," Qui-Gon sputtered. "What do you mean he doesn't have a father?"

"It means exactly what it sounds like, Qui-Gon," she said tartly as Anakin rushed up the stairs toward her.

"Did you see, Mom?" he asked, his voice bursting with buoyant exuberance. "It works!"

"I did," Shmi said, trying in vain to keep the concern out of her voice. She knew that Anakin was an extremely gifted mechanic, especially so for a nine year old boy, but she couldn't help but cringe whenever he tested out his various contraptions and vehicles. "Are you sure it's safe?" she asked.

"Of course it is," Anakin said dismissively. "It's the fastest podracer ever!"

Shmi pursed her lips and glanced over her son's head to take another look at the pod he had constructed. It seemed structurally sound, but Shmi didn't know the first thing about how these things worked.

"What happened to Jar Jar?" Qui-Gon asked suddenly.

Shmi turned in the direction where Qui-Gon was looking to see the lanky Gungan fretting over his long tongue which was hanging out his mouth limply. Padmé was watching him with a deeply perturbed expression, clearly unsure whether or not to try and help.

"He stuck his head in the energy binders," Anakin informed them with a smirk. "I told him not to."

"Will he be okay?" Qui-Gon asked with a hint of exasperation.

"Oh, he should be fine," Anakin said confidently. "He just won't be able to feel his mouth for a few hours." Shmi frowned at her son and crossed her arms disapprovingly. "What?" Anakin asked quizzically, clearly not understanding why she was cross with him.

"You should tend to him, Anakin," she said sternly.

"There's nothing I can do, Mom," Anakin insisted.

"Anakin, go help him. Now."

"Fine," Anakin said with a sigh as he turned around and ran back down the steps toward the frenzied Gungan.

Shmi and Qui-Gon watched him go; Shmi maintained her dour visage while Qui-Gon's had broken into an amused grin. "He's an incredible boy," Qui-Gon said after a long silence.

"In some ways," Shmi admitted begrudgingly.

"He is the Chosen One, isn't he?" Shmi turned to him slowly, her limbs feeling heavy and unresponsive. Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows at her as his mouth stretched into an infuriating smirk. "He must be."

"Anakin isn't the Chosen One," Shmi said shortly.

"Oh come on, he must be!" Qui-Gon exclaimed. "He has no father, Shmi! He must have been spawned by the Force!"

"He wasn't spawned by the Force," Shmi said.

"But then –"

"I will tell you everything tonight, Qui-Gon," Shmi interrupted tersely. "Anakin isn't the Chosen One. I'm sure of this."

Qui-Gon frowned but didn't pursue the subject any further. "Will you at least allow me to perform a midichlorian test?"

Shmi hesitated as she considered this. "On the condition that this remains confidential," she said. "Nobody can know that this blood sample belongs to Anakin."

"Very well," Qui-Gon said, not asking why she was so insistent on this point. It was a relief that he was so respectful of her wishes without debate. He always had been like that, she reminded herself. Qui-Gon had always prioritized her wishes over his own. That was what made him such a remarkable man.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the group was presented with a challenging logistical dilemma. While Shmi was more than willing to provide her guests with shelter, she simply didn't have the space to accommodate three additional people in her humble abode.

"Mesa can sleep anywhere," Jar Jar informed her when she voiced her concerns. "Don't yousa worry about mesa."

Shmi nodded appreciatively to the Gungan, but this didn't resolve the issue entirely. They had one additional couch in the minuscule living room which was directly opposite the kitchen. The problem could of course be resolved if Shmi shared a bed with Qui-Gon, but that obviously wasn't going to happen.

"Padmé, you can take my room," Anakin offered earnestly. "I can sleep on the floor in the kitchen, it's not a big deal."

"I couldn't do that," Padmé said at once.

"Really, I don't mind," Anakin insisted.

"Ani, that's kind of you but you need to get a good night's sleep before the race tomorrow," Shmi said gently. Anakin pouted a bit, but he seemed to concede the point and didn't offer an objection.

"Padmé can take the couch, I will meditate outside for the night," Qui-Gon offered.

"You're going to meditate all night?" Shmi asked incredulously.

"There's a lot on my mind," Qui-Gon said vaguely. Shmi shrugged but didn't try to convince him otherwise.

"Very well," she said. "Let me go get some spare sheets for the couch."

Upon retrieving the sheets and laying them out on the couch for Padmé, Shmi walked back toward the patio where she found Qui-Gon talking to Anakin. Shmi paused in the doorway as she watched them interact. She felt a knot build in her stomach as she saw how much Anakin looked up to Qui-Gon. Anakin had never had a father figure before, and it was clear that Qui-Gon was rapidly assuming that role in her son's mind.

"There are so many!" Anakin said, his neck craned upward as he gazed at the stars above. "Do they _all _have a system of planets?"

"Most of them," Qui-Gon said as he dabbed Anakin's arm with a piece of gauze.

"Has anyone been to them all?" Anakin asked.

Qui-Gon chuckled a bit and looked up as well. "Not likely," he said.

"I want to be the first one to see them all!" Anakin said, his voice bursting with youthful enthusiasm. "Ow!" he exclaimed when Qui-Gon pricked his arm.

"There you are," Qui-Gon said as he applied a small patch to the crevice of Anakin's arm. "Good as new."

"What are you doing?" Anakin asked as Qui-Gon scraped the blood sample onto a chip and inserted it into his comlink.

"Checking your blood for infections," Qui-Gon lied.

Deciding that now was a good time to reveal herself, Shmi stepped out onto the sandy patio and approached. "Come on, Ani. Time for bed," she said.

"Go on, you have a big day tomorrow," Qui-Gon said when Anakin opened his mouth to protest. Qui-Gon patted Anakin gently on the back as he jumped off the ledge and made his way toward her. "Goodnight," Qui-Gon said.

"Goodnight," Anakin mumbled, clearly not wanting to go to bed yet. Shmi smiled at her son and led him back into the house. After having tucked Anakin into bed and kissed him goodnight, Shmi made her way back to the patio where Qui-Gon was waiting with his comlink in hand. Closing the door behind her, Shmi sat down next to him on the ledge with a heavy sigh.

"So? What were the results?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Qui-Gon chuckled faintly as he put the comlink away. "It's just as I predicted," he said. "Your son is off the charts. His midichlorian count is higher even than Master Yoda's. "

Shmi closed her eyes and felt herself deflate in dejection. She had known this was the case, but it still hurt to receive confirmation. Sidious had designed him to be the most powerful Force-sensitive in the history of the galaxy.

"Are you sure he's not the Chosen One?" Qui-Gon asked. "The Prophecy refers to a boy with no father who will bring balance to the Force. That sounds an awful lot like Anakin."

"It isn't Anakin," Shmi reiterated. "And it doesn't have to be a boy, you know."

"Why not?" Qui-Gon asked, ignoring this latter point.

Shmi stood upright and walked a few steps away from Qui-Gon, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She felt Qui-Gon's eyes on her as she came to a stop a few feet away and exhaled deeply. "Ten years ago, my life was ripped apart," she said. Shmi took a shaky breathe as she turned around slowly to face Qui-Gon. She had never talked to anyone about what had happened to her before. She already knew that this was going to be immensely difficult for her.

"By the Sith? By Sidious?" Qui-Gon asked gently.

Shmi nodded her head and looked away quickly when she felt tears well up in her eyes. "The Council sent me to Jakku," she said, her throat feeling constricted as she continued to stare at the horizon instead of at Qui-Gon. "It was there where he was waiting for me."

"What did he do to you, Shmi?"

She couldn't do it. The tears abruptly began streaming down her cheeks as she dissolved into horrible, body-wracking sobs. Qui-Gon got up quickly to comfort her, but there was nothing he could do for her. Sidious had so thoroughly broken her. There was nothing left of the woman whom he had known and loved.

Qui-Gon absentmindedly rubbed a pattern on her back as he let her weep into his chest. She had learned how to blot out the pain over the years, but the trauma of the incident had never left her. She had forced herself to stop thinking about it, but that only made the pain worse now that she was being forced to relive it all over again…

_That makes you mine, Shmi Skywalker._

She remembered the bone-chilling fear which had coursed through her veins when Sidious talked to her. She remembered the searing pain when Sidious had tortured her with lightning or when he had violated her and forcefully impregnated her.

_You will give me what I need, Shmi Skywalker._

She could never let him get his hands on her son. She knew that Sidious had created Anakin as his tool to overthrow the Jedi Order. That was why she had to run away. That was why she had to ensure that Anakin was never found.

"It's okay," Qui-Gon said softly when she finally ceased crying. "I'll always be here for you, Shmi. You know that? You can tell me anything."

"I know," she said as she separated from his embrace. "But I couldn't tell you at the time, Qui-Gon. I was so afraid."

"You can tell me now."

Shmi nodded her head and sniffled loudly as she wiped the stray tears out of her eyes. "I think you know what he did to me," she said weakly.

Qui-Gon squirmed a bit, looking tremendously uncomfortable as he sat back down on the ledge. "Is Sidious the father?" he asked.

"Not exactly, no," Shmi said, wrapping her arms around herself to warm herself in the late night chill. "But he is responsible for creating Anakin."

Qui-Gon frowned and tilted his head in confusion. "I don't understand," he finally said.

"Nor do I, really," Shmi said heavily. "I don't know what… what specifically he did to me. All I know is that it was painful. So, so horribly painful." Trembling a bit, Shmi recomposed herself with another shaky breath. "I knew the Jedi would expel me from the Order when they found out I was pregnant," she said. "Master Windu already suspected that there was something between us. He would have accused me of lying and then you would have been implicated as well. That's why I had to run away."

"But I don't care about any of that, Shmi!" Qui-Gon protested. "I would have left the Order in a heartbeat for you. You knew that."

"I know you would have," Shmi said tiredly. "But it wouldn't have been fair to you, Qui-Gon. For our entire marriage, I felt horrible because you sacrificed so much for me whereas I never gave up anything for you. You prioritized my wishes above your own every single time. It would have been horrible of me if I asked you to leave the Jedi Order to help me raise a child which wasn't even yours."

"I would have loved Anakin like my own son, Shmi," Qui-Gon said. Shmi closed her eyes and saw the look of absolute adoration and awe on Anakin's face when he looked up at Qui-Gon. She knew Anakin needed a father figure, and it was entirely her fault that he had been robbed of that.

"What do you want me to say, Qui-Gon?" she snapped. "That I was wrong? That I made a mistake by running away?"

"Of course not," Qui-Gon said hastily. "The past is the past, Shmi. I just want us to be able to move on from this together."

Shmi shook her head automatically. "You're not going to leave the Order for me, Qui-Gon," she said.

"I don't intend to," Qui-Gon said. "I want you to come back."

That thoroughly surprised Shmi, so much so that she was rendered speechless for a few moments. "You want me to return to the Order?" she said eventually. "But Qui-Gon –"

"The Council needs to know about Anakin," Qui-Gon said. "When that happens, there will be little point in you hiding anymore. They will know that he is your son."

"No, no, no," Shmi said, shaking her head vigorously as she pointed her finger accusatively at Qui-Gon. "You're not going to take my son away from me. He can't go to Coruscant."

"But he could be the Chosen One! The one to bring balance to the Force!"

"He isn't the Chosen One!" Shmi exploded, causing Qui-Gon to shy away from her in shock. "He can't be!"

"I don't understand why not," he said warily.

"He was created by a Sith Lord! He was designed as an incarnation of evil! How could he possibly be the Chosen One?"

"But he isn't evil, Shmi," Qui-Gon said, his brow furrowed with disappointment. "How could you say that about him?"

"Sidious wants to use him," Shmi said, pointing angrily at the house where Anakin was hopefully asleep by now. "If you bring him to the Jedi, he will be able to detect him."

"The Jedi will be able to protect him," Qui-Gon countered. "And they will be able to protect you too."

Shmi shook her head again as she began pacing in front of him. "You're wrong," she said. "You don't know Sidious' power like I do. The Jedi won't be able to shield him from Sidious."

"Then what do you propose, Shmi?" Qui-Gon asked. "Keep him here on Tatooine as a slave for the rest of his life?"

Shmi hesitated as she considered this. "If it keeps him safe," she said weakly.

"He deserves better than that, and so do you, Shmi," Qui-Gon said ardently.

"I know that!" Shmi growled. "You think I want him to be a slave? You think I wanted this for him?"

Qui-Gon frowned and looked away toward the sleepy village below. "Why did you come here, anyway?" he asked. "Why Tatooine?"

"I didn't have much of a choice," she said. "I bounced around from planet to planet for a few months. By the time I landed here, I was heavily pregnant and was unable to carry on. Slave traders caught up with me pretty easily. They target pregnant women, you know. They can sell them for double the price without the hassle of having to capture two people."

"But why did you let them?" Qui-Gon asked. "Surely you could have stopped them?"

Shmi shrugged and looked down at the sand. "I could have, but I knew I needed help," she said. "I wouldn't have been able to give birth on my own."

"So you let yourself become enslaved?" Qui-Gon asked, utterly horrified.

"I had to," she said curtly. Qui-Gon looked thoroughly unconvinced by this assessment, but he didn't offer a rebuttal. Instead he stared at her silently for a few moments with a morose expression.

"I'm not going to let you continue to live like this," he said finally.

"I am not going back to Coruscant with you, Qui-Gon," Shmi said icily.

"I know, but at the very least allow me to buy your freedom."

"With what money?" she asked. "Credits are no good out here, and even if they were you wouldn't have enough money anyway, not on a Jedi pension. Slaves aren't cheap."

Qui-Gon frowned, his forehead scrunched in concentration as he considered this point. "What if I bet on it?" he said suddenly.

"What?" Shmi asked, confused.

"I'll bet the pod for you and Anakin's freedom," he said excitedly.

"That won't work," Shmi said at once. "Watto won't take that bet. No pod could be worth two slaves."

"What about just one slave?" Qui-Gon asked. Shmi pursed her lips as she considered this. "Come on, Anakin said it was the fastest pod ever built. That's got to have some value."

"Maybe," she said cautiously.

"I could free Anakin and then come back to purchase your freedom as well," Qui-Gon said, his eyes shining with zeal. "I'm sure Dooku would be willing to lend me some money if I don't have enough." When Shmi didn't say anything, Qui-Gon stood up and took her hands. "Shmi, let me do this for you," he said passionately. "I won't be able to live with myself otherwise."

Shmi hesitated as she looked at their interlocked hands for a moment. After everything she had done to him, it was only right for her to let him have this. While she had no aspirations to obtain her own freedom, it would mean the world to Anakin and it would make Qui-Gon immeasurably happy. "Alright," she said, nodding her head as she looked back up at his eyes. "But be careful. Watto's not going to be happy when he loses."

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Are you suggesting I should fear a Toydarian?" he asked.

"No, but you should fear the Hutts," Shmi said, sobering Qui-Gon's amused expression. "You don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, Qui-Gon, for both of our sakes."

"Well that's going to be a little difficult," Qui-Gon said. "Because I intend on coming back here as often as I can after I free you and Anakin."

Shmi cringed as she released his hands and took a step back. "You can't do that," she said, unable to meet his gaze.

"What do you mean? Why not?"

"It's too risky," she said. "You would draw too much attention to us. Anakin cannot be discovered, Qui-Gon. It is imperative that he remain hidden from Sidious."

"Then what would you have me do, Shmi?" Qui-Gon asked loudly as he threw his hands into the air in frustration. "Pretend as if I never found you? Abandon you on this Force-forsaken dump of a planet?"

"No, but…"

"But what?" Qui-Gon asked.

Shmi faltered as she met his incredulous gaze. This was all he wanted, she realized. He wanted to be with her and Anakin. He wanted this to be the family he had always aspired to have. But it was simply too dangerous! Surely, the Jedi and Sidious would notice if Qui-Gon began taking regular trips to the Outer Rim to meet her.

"I understand why you're frustrated," she said, forcing herself to speak calmly. "Truly, I do. I know it isn't fair. Nothing in our lives ever has been. But I can't allow you to endanger Anakin in this way. The fate of the galaxy may depend on his safety. You shouldn't allow your personal wishes to interfere in that."

Qui-Gon crossed his arms in front of his chest and clenched his jaw angrily. "You sound just like the Jedi," he said bitingly.

"Well maybe they're right," she said.

"Not about this," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. "I love you, Shmi. Why won't you let me be a part of your life?"

"Qui-Gon –"

"It's late," Qui-Gon interrupted tersely as he turned away from her. "You should get some rest."

Shmi faltered as she looked at Qui-Gon's back. She couldn't bear to see him like this. She had hurt him so much, and now she was going to hurt him again by refusing to allow him to visit her and Anakin. What type of a monster did that to the person they supposedly loved?

But she loved Anakin more. That was the simple reality of the situation. Qui-Gon's needs would forevermore have to be secondary to Anakin's. She may feel terrible about that, but it was the truth. Anakin's safety was of paramount importance, and if it meant pushing Qui-Gon away, she would have to do that.

"Goodnight," she said hoarsely as she backed away from him toward the house. "I'll see you in the morning." She received no reply as she opened the door and left the heartbroken Jedi Master alone on the patio.

* * *

Shmi was unable to sleep much that night. There was too much on her mind, so she ended up meditating on the cool floor instead much like Qui-Gon was probably doing on the patio outside. Her thoughts drifted between Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Sidious in a torturous loop. She finally got up off the floor when the suns began to rise early the next morning.

Hands trembling slightly, Shmi kept herself busy by fixing up a meager breakfast for her guests. She was too nervous to eat anything. While she could be confident that she would be able to prevent the other racers from winning, she couldn't be sure she would be able to keep Anakin safe. He had never actually completed a race before. What if something went wrong with his pod? What if another racer sabotaged him somehow? There would be nothing she could do in that case.

Shmi and Qui-Gon avoided each other for the entire morning and they elected to make their way to the arena separately, much to her relief. Qui-Gon left early with Jar Jar while Shmi stayed behind with the children to help bring Anakin's pod to the arena. Enlisting the help of Anakin's friend Kitster, the four of them rigged the two engines to a couple of eopies while Padmé's droid carried the pod itself.

Shmi couldn't avoid Qui-Gon entirely, however. Upon hugging Anakin and wishing him good luck, Shmi left the track and stepped onto the viewing platform with Jar Jar and Padmé. Holding her hand up to her eyes, she watched from a distance as Qui-Gon lifted Anakin into the pod and ruffled his hair in a paternal fashion. Qui-Gon said a few words to Anakin before stepping away and walking over toward her.

"Is he nervous?" Shmi asked as Qui-Gon stepped onto the viewing platform.

"He's fine," he said a bit curtly as he pushed past her.

"You Jedi are far too reckless," Padmé said. "You're placing too much faith in this boy."

"You should trust my judgement," Qui-Gon said, bending down so that he was at eye level with the short handmaiden. "Anakin will win this."

"Did you know he's never even finished a race before?" Padmé asked as the viewing platform began rising upward, granting them a good view of the track below.

Qui-Gon glanced at Shmi momentarily, seeking confirmation. "Don't worry, Padmé," Shmi assured the distressed girl. "Anakin will do fine." Far from assuaged, Padmé crossed her arms with a huff and turned away from them.

"Are you sure about this?" Qui-Gon asked her in a hushed voice so Padmé wouldn't hear.

"Yes," Shmi said shortly, refusing to look Qui-Gon in the eye. All of a sudden, the engines of the pods all roared to life, creating a deafening noise that was only matched by the raucous cheering of the crowd. Amidst the awesome noise, Shmi was able to make out the sound of a gong going off, signaling the start of the race.

"_An darre ov!_" she heard the announcer say as the pods took off.

"Oh wait! Little Skywalker has stalled!"

"You cannot be serious," Padmé bemoaned exasperatedly as she gripped the holopad tightly. Shmi wasn't paying attention, however. She was too busy focusing on another pod…

"Well it looks like Quadinaros is having engine problems also."

Gritting her teeth, Shmi felt perspiration developing on her forehead as she strained to keep Quadinaros' pod in place. Bewildered, the Toong racer pounded on his control panel in a desperate attempt to diagnose the problem.

"And there goes Skywalker." Shmi felt Padmé unclench next to her as Anakin took off down the track after the other pods. "He will be hard pressed to catch up with the leaders," the announcer said.

When Quadinaros leapt out of his pod to conduct a more thorough investigation, Shmi twitched her neck violently. The four engines collapsed in on themselves and exploded, throwing the poor racer several feet in the air where he landed in the sand, unconscious.

"Woah! There goes Quadinaros' power couplings!"

Shmi stumbled back a bit into Qui-Gon's chest. Wiping her forehead, she regained her balance quickly before Padmé could notice anything. "Shmi?" Qui-Gon asked in a whisper. "How the hell did you just do that?"

Shmi waved him off without answering. She would have time to explain herself after the race. Right now she had to make sure her son wasn't in danger. Watching through the holopad in Padmé's hand, Shmi stretched out through the Force and focused on the pods in Anakin's immediate vicinity. It was tremendously difficult to keep up with the racers' Force signatures since they were moving so fast, but Shmi managed to latch onto them and hold on regardless. With another jerk of her neck, she sent a pod careening to the left where it crashed into a stalagmite and exploded.

"Ooh! There goes Tyerell!" the announcer exclaimed. "He seemed to lose control of his pod for a moment there."

"Shmi!" Qui-Gon said in a hushed voice as he reached out and grabbed her arm. "You just killed that person!"

"So?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth. Qui-Gon's gaped at her silently, stunned speechless by her ruthlessness.

Returning her attention to the race, Shmi saw that Anakin had managed to catch up with the rest of the field. Shmi caught her breath when the pods all swerved when there was a loud bang.

"Looks like a few Tusken raiders have camped out on the canyon dune turn!"

Seizing the opportunity, Shmi shut her eyes tight and focused intently on the Sand People. The next time they fired, she redirected the bolt so that it flew directly into an engine, causing it to explode. Satisfied with her performance, Shmi took a deep breath and relaxed for a few moments. They were still only on the first lap. She didn't need to eliminate the entire competition for Anakin.

"_Sebulba! Ka pa me cheespa watta!_"

Shmi watched as Sebulba's pod went zooming past the starting gate and on to the second lap, closely followed by the rest of the pursuit group. A few moments later, Anakin's pod came barreling around the corner and past the gate. Shmi followed her son's pod as he went flying by, projecting love and encouragement to him through the Force. Just as she returned her attention to the holopad, however, her forehead exploded in pain.

"Shmi!" Qui-Gon yelled when she collapsed to the ground. Her neck lolled forward, causing the side of her skull to smash into the railing. All of her senses went numb; her vision went black, the sounds of the crowd turned fuzzy and distant, and even the heat of the morning suns dissipated and she felt her whole body grow cold.

"_There has been an awakening. Have you felt it?"_

"_Yes, my master," _the apprentices told their masters.

"_Finally, we have found her! She has been hiding on Tatooine for all these years."_

Shmi could feel the excitement rippling through the Force. Finally, their plans were being realized! The Jedi would fall! After a millennium of planning and waiting, the Sith would finally regain control over the galaxy!

"_Bring her to me," _the first master said.

"_Bring him to me,"_ the second master said.

"_Yes, my master," _the apprentices said simultaneously to their respective masters_. "I will not fail you."_

"Shmi! Shmi!"

Shmi's eyes flew open as she inhaled sharply. Blinking rapidly, she saw Qui-Gon and Padmé kneeling in the sand at her side. Her temple was throbbing painfully where she had hit it against the railing. She pressed her hands to her ears to muffle out the deafening roar of the crowd, the noise aggravating her already splitting headache.

"What happened?" Qui-Gon asked, his eyes wide with concern.

"I… I don't know," Shmi said as she shut her eyes tight. Her pupils were dilated, rendering her practically blind in the powerful sunlight. In spite of the oppressive heat, she was shivering as her whole body was covered in cool, damp sweat.

"It's Skywalker! The crowd is going nuts!"

"I don't believe it," she heard Padmé say.

"What?" Qui-Gon asked.

"He actually did it! Anakin won!"

Shmi opened her eyes a fraction to see that Padmé had stood up and was holding her hands to her mouth in shock. So that explained why the crowd was going crazy. Anakin must have managed to win the race without her…

Shmi reached up and clasped Qui-Gon's hand tightly as he helped her into a seated position against the column of the viewing platform. "He knows," she said in a whisper. "Sidious knows I'm here."

"What!?" Qui-Gon exclaimed loudly.

"It's true!" Padmé said jubilantly, misinterpreting the reason for Qui-Gon's incredulity. "He really did it!"

"He's sending his apprentice," Shmi said, her teeth chattering from both the chill and the terror coursing through her. She hadn't experienced this level of fear since Jakku. "He's coming for Anakin."

"What are we going to do?" he asked.

"You have to take him, Qui-Gon," she said urgently. "Have Watto remove the tracking chip and get him off this planet."

"But what about you?" Qui-Gon asked. "I'm not leaving without you!"

"You have to," she said, gripping Qui-Gon's hand so tightly that she caused him to wince. "I will face him alone. And this time, I will destroy him."


	4. The Duel

_Tatooine_

After the race, Shmi rushed home to collect her lightsaber and to pack up some clothes and other belongings for Anakin. Qui-Gon had attended to getting Anakin's chip removed and he was now taking him back to the ship along with the parts they needed to repair the hyperdrive. Shmi could only hope that they had enough time to fix the ship before Sidious' apprentice arrived.

Taking the eopie toward into the desert where Qui-Gon had told her their ship was, Shmi fidgeted nervously with the lightsaber on her belt. She felt an odd mixture of confidence and trepidation. On the one hand, she was greatly encouraged by how easily she had managed to tap into the Force that morning. If anything, the Force seemed to respond to her even better now than it did ten years ago when she had been a Jedi. It didn't make much sense, but she couldn't deny that she had never before felt more in control of her powers.

Yet on the other hand, Shmi knew that she was desperately out of shape and practice. She hadn't wielded her lightsaber in a decade. How was she supposed to defeat a Sith Lord in her current physical state? She would have to rely heavily on her Force abilities if she was going to make this an even fight.

What gave her the most cause for concern, however, was the revelation that there were two separate sets of Sith. She hadn't told Qui-Gon about this because she was sure what it meant. Her vision had been clear, however. There had clearly been two different masters and two different apprentices. The only discernible difference between them seemed to be that one was after a man and one was after a woman. The 'man' she assumed was Anakin. But who was the woman? Was it her? Could it be the queen who Qui-Gon was protecting? Someone else entirely?

Deciding that this question was academic given the circumstances, Shmi tried to stop herself from overanalyzing the situation. She couldn't help herself, however. It had been ten years since she had last been in a life threatening situation like this one. She had lived for moments like this when she had been a Jedi. The adrenaline rush she got was unlike anything else. In a perverse sense, she was actually excited to face this Sith Lord. She couldn't wait to test out her powers!

Because she knew that she was getting more powerful by the day. While her powers had been kept latent for years, she knew all the while that they continued to develop and grow even without practice. She couldn't explain why that was, but she knew it was the case. Her performance at the podrace had been a testament to that fact. Qui-Gon had been shocked by her awesome display of power. She knew he had never seen anything like that before. The Force bended to her will like none other.

Reaching the top of a sand dune, Shmi finally saw the ship in question below her. Squinting and holding a hand up to her eyes, Shmi couldn't help but notice that it was an especially sleek ride. It was made out of an exceptionally shiny metal which reflected light directly into her retinas. A ship of this quality stuck out like a sore thumb in a planet like this.

As she descended the sand dune on the back of the lumbering eopie, she was able to make out the figures standing by the ship. Her eyes gravitated to the fuzzy form of Qui-Gon. He was standing next to a slightly shorter man with short hair. As she got closer, she could see that this man was sporting a distinctive Padawan braid. This must be Qui-Gon's apprentice, Obi-Wan. A few feet away from the two Jedi was a dark-skinned man who was talking to someone on his comlink.

Qui-Gon looked up to see her just as she jumped off the back of her eopie. "Where is Anakin?" she asked at once as she walked toward him.

"He's already on board," he said. "Did you want to say goodbye?"

"No," Shmi forced herself to say as she handed Qui-Gon the bag she had packed for Anakin. "We don't have time. Just make sure he gets this."

Qui-Gon nodded and beckoned Obi-Wan forward. "Shmi, this is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Pleasure to meet you, Knight Skywalker," Obi-Wan said politely.

Shmi nodded curtly and looked toward the horizon. "I can sense him," she said. "He's close."

Qui-Gon pursed his lips and followed her eyes. "I will trust you judgement," he said.

"Is the ship almost ready?" she asked.

"Almost," Obi-Wan informed her. "We should be ready to depart in a few minutes."

"Then what are you still doing out here?" she asked.

"Obi-Wan and I are going to help you," Qui-Gon said earnestly.

"Absolutely not!" Shmi said angrily. "You have to stay with Anakin."

"But Shmi –"

"Qui-Gon, don't fight me on this," she interrupted. "This is my fight. I need you to make sure my son is safe."

"But if he is a Sith Lord, you're going to need our help," Obi-Wan said.

Shmi shook her head vigorously. "I don't require assistance from a Padawan," she said rudely. When Obi-Wan opened his mouth to object, Shmi held up her hand to cut him off. "I appreciate the sentiment, Kenobi, but this is something I must do alone."

Obi-Wan glanced at his master, clearly waiting for his order. "Get on the ship, Obi-Wan," he said begrudgingly. "Take Panaka with you."

"But Master –"

"Just do it," Qui-Gon said tersely. Obi-Wan frowned but nonetheless complied with Qui-Gon's command. Spinning away, Obi-Wan said a few words to Panaka before both men walked off toward the ramp and onto the ship.

"Shmi –" Qui-Gon started to say.

"Don't try to change my mind, Qui-Gon," she interrupted. "I won't let you stay behind. Anakin needs you."

Qui-Gon closed his mouth and bit his lower lip nervously. "Promise me you will be safe," he said.

Shmi shook her head and reached up and placed her hand on the side of Qui-Gon's face. "I can't guarantee that," she said. "Either he dies or I die. There will be no other fate."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and nodded. "I don't want to lose you, Shmi," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Not again."

Shmi hesitated, her hand still cupping Qu-Gon's cheek. "Qui-Gon, I…" She stopped talking abruptly and spun around away from Qui-Gon. "Go now," she said, her voice full of authority. "He's here."

"Shmi –"

"Go!" she bellowed. Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment longer before turning away to bolt toward the on ramp. Shmi produced her lightsaber and activated it, the sound of the blade's familiar hum drowned out by the roar of the engines behind her. She heard the ramp seal and the ship let out a groan as it lifted into the air. Sand billowed around her, the grains being lifted upward by the ship's powerful propulsion.

From the top of a sand dune, Shmi finally saw him. A red zabrak was flying toward her on a speeder. With incredible grace and athleticism, the zabrak leapt off his speeder and flipped as he produced his lightsaber in midair. As he soared over her, he slashed down at her with brutal force. Shmi deflected the blow over her head and spun around to face the Sith when he landed where the ship had just been. Shmi barely had time to react when the Sith began his assault. The zabrak's blade flashed before her with dizzying speed. Shmi retreated hastily as she struggled to keep up with the onslaught.

Ducking under a blow aimed at her neck, Shmi deactivated her blade and sent the Sith flying backward with a Force push. Unfazed, the Sith flipped and landed elegantly on his feet several feet away. As the zabrak ran back toward her, Shmi slashed her hand through the air, causing a cloud of sand to be lifted upward. With another flick of her wrist, Shmi sent the cloud back toward the Sith. Caught off guard, he was lifted off his feet and buried in the sand. Reigniting her blade, Shmi jumped into the air toward her momentarily vulnerable opponent. The zabrak managed to extricate himself from his sandy restraints with surprising speed, however. With a Force push of his own, Shmi was sent backward where she landed far less smoothly than the Sith had done.

Regaining her footing, Shmi narrowly avoided an overhead strike. Backing away, Shmi felt her arms protesting and she knew she wasn't going to be able to keep up with the Sith's wicked blade for much longer.

In a desperate attempt to regain the initiative, Shmi kicked wildly at the zabrak's abdomen. Missing badly, the Sith capitalized on her lack of balance and pushed her to the ground with a brutal blow to her flank. Winded, Shmi collapsed into the sand on her back, her blue blade pressed against the Sith's red directly above her chest.

"Where is the boy?" the Sith growled as he leaned into their interlocked blades. "Tell me!"

"He's gone," Shmi managed to say. Using the Force to aide her, Shmi pushed up and managed to free herself. Rolling away, Shmi tried to leap to her feet but found her legs unresponsive. She was so exhausted from the strenuous fight that her legs had given out on her. The zabrak prowled in front of her as she struggled to get her wobbly legs to cooperate.

"Where are they going?" he asked.

"Far away from here," Shmi said. "He will be safe from you and you master."

The Sith gave a bark-like laugh and shook his head. "You are wrong, Skywalker," he said. "He will be ours."

"You will never take my son," Shmi said defiantly as she raised her lightsaber.

Growling, the Sith ran at her with his red blade held high. Shmi tried desperately to defend herself, but this time around she knew she had no hope. Her body was failing her now. There was little she could do to keep up.

In one swift move, the zabrak pushed her blade away and kicked her squarely in the chest. Soaring backward, Shmi's lightsaber fell out of her hand when she collided into the base of a sand dune. Walking up to her, the Sith held his lightsaber at his side menacingly. "You are a fool, Skywalker," he said. "You are nothing compared to the power of the Sith. You cannot protect your son from us."

"But I can."

Caught off guard, the Sith turned around to see who had spoken. Unable to see around the Sith's figure, Shmi couldn't see who was there. Had Qui-Gon come back to save her? The voice hadn't sounded like Qui-Gon, however. Yet there was something familiar about it nonetheless…

"Who are you?" the Sith asked to her mystery savior.

Struggling to her feet, Shmi called her lightsaber back to her hand before walking to the side to see around the zabrak. When she saw who was standing there, Shmi nearly dropped her lightsaber once again as she gasped in shock.

"I am your doom," Count Dooku said.

* * *

Qui-Gon was staring blankly out the window of the cockpit as the Queen's ship elevated out of the atmosphere and into orbit around Tatooine.

"Master?" he heard a distant-sounding voice ask. "Master?"

Languidly, Qui-Gon tore his eyes away from the window to look at Obi-Wan. "What?" he asked with a sigh.

"We've set course for Coruscant," Obi-Wan informed him. "We should be there within a day."

"Good," Qui-Gon said.

"Master, the Queen has asked for your presence in her chambers," Obi-Wan said.

"Has she now?" Qui-Gon asked bitterly. With another heavy sigh, Qui-Gon looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Tell her I'll be right there," he said.

Obi-Wan nodded and rushed out of the cockpit, leaving Qui-Gon alone with Captain Panaka who was piloting the ship. Clutching the armrests of his seat angrily, Qui-Gon forced himself to stand up and plodded after Obi-Wan toward the Queen's chambers.

He didn't want to have to deal with this adolescent queen any longer. All he could think about was Shmi. He had been forced to leave her behind to fight against a Sith Lord. Surely she wouldn't stand a chance! But when Qui-Gon thought back to the podrace, and he couldn't be so sure of that. He had never seen anything like that before. She had swatted pods out of the sky from miles away. How had she done that? He had always known that Shmi was powerful in the Force, far more so than most of the Masters on the Council even, but never had she been _that _powerful.

Nonetheless, he doubted she would be able to match up with a Sith Lord in combat. Shmi had never been an expert dueler in spite of her prodigious Force powers. She had said that this fight could only end in two ways: with her victory or her death. Was it not far more likely that it would end in the latter outcome?

Stepping into the chambers, Qui-Gon was presented with the faux queen sitting on her throne surrounded by her handmaidens. Padmé was standing at attention directly to the right of their throne. Qui-Gon had been impressed by the subtlety of their interaction, but he had detected it nonetheless. He had deduced quite early on that Padmé was the true queen and the imposter was merely following her orders.

"Master Jinn," the fake queen said in her characteristically flat tone when he entered. "I would like to thank you for your efforts on Tatooine."

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows and stared directly at Padmé. "You should thank the boy, not me," he said. "Anakin did all the work."

"I will do so," the queen said a bit tartly, evidently offended that Qui-Gon was telling her how to do her job. "In the meantime, I would like an explanation on what happened this morning."

Qui-Gon tilted his head innocently. "Care to be more specific?" he asked.

"My handmaiden tells me that some… strange things happened at the race," she said.

"Did she?" Qui-Gon asked, turning to face Padmé once more. "What sort of things did you find strange, _handmaiden_?"

Padmé flushed angrily and looked up at the fake queen. Biting her tongue, Padmé turned back to Qui-Gon. "What happened with Shmi?" she asked. "Why did she pass out at the race?"

"I assume the heat got to her," Qui-Gon lied at once.

"We both know that's not true, Master Jinn," Padmé said. "What happened really? And why was she so insistent that Anakin come with us right after the race ended?"

Qui-Gon gave a side glance to Obi-Wan who was watching with heightened interest from the corner of the room. He had informed his Padawan about Shmi, whom Obi-Wan knew only as the mysterious Jedi Knight who had disappeared ten years ago. He knew he could trust Obi-Wan with this information, but he wasn't sure if it was wise to divulge this secret to Amidala as well.

"I told you to keep your nose out of my affairs," Qui-Gon said bitingly to Padmé. "This matter does not concern you."

"Yes, it does," the Queen said. "You do not have the right to be keeping secrets from me or my handmaidens."

"Why is that?" Qui-Gon asked.

Stunned by his audacity, the faux queen's mouth fell open in outraged aggrievement. "Master Jinn –" she began to say, but Padmé cut her off in a most un-handmaidenly fashion.

"She's a Jedi, isn't she?" she said. Qui-Gon's eyes widened in surprise. How had she figured that out? "I thought so," she added triumphantly, interpreting his stunned expression as confirmation.

"What makes you say that?" Qui-Gon asked, struggling to keep his voice casual.

"That must be why you know her," Padmé said, ignoring his question. "Why was she on Tatooine? And a slave, no less?"

"I fail to see why this should matter to you," Qui-Gon said tersely.

"I think the Queen has a right to know why Shmi Skywalker insisted we leave so quickly with her son," Padmé said. "Were we in danger on Tatooine? Was that why she fainted at the race?"

Qui-Gon stared back at Padmé with wide eyes, simultaneously impressed and vexed by her insight. She was awfully bright, there was no denying that. Perhaps too bright for her own good, however. She had somehow figured everything out, except for one glaring missing piece; fortunately, she hadn't realized that he and Shmi were married. He could only hope that she wouldn't uncover that secret as well. For now, however, Qui-Gon knew it was probably wisest to give Padmé a little bit of information in the hopes that she would cease digging.

"Fine, you're right," he admitted curtly. "Shmi was once a Jedi Knight. She has been in hiding for the past ten years from a Sith Lord. When she used her powers to ensure that Anakin would win the race, she became visible to this Sith. That was why we had to leave so abruptly."

Padmé's eyebrows shot upward, clearly having not expected Qui-Gon to actually fold and tell her this much. "And what about the boy?" the queen asked. "Why did she give him to us?"

"To protect him from this Sith Lord," Qui-Gon said. "Darth Sidious is after Anakin. Shmi stayed behind to face his apprentice."

"What does he want with Anakin?" Padmé asked.

"We can't know for sure," Qui-Gon said wearily. "But it is imperative that we keep Anakin safe."

"Master Jinn, your first and _only _priority should be protecting me and my handmaidens," the Queen said haughtily. "We cannot be sidetracked with –" The Queen stopped abruptly when Padmé gave her a stern, albeit discreet look. Flustered, the queen blinked a few times and turned a bit red. "Never mind," she said weakly.

"You remain my primary priority, your Highness," Qui-Gon assured her disingenuously. "Once we arrive on Coruscant, I will drop the boy off at the Jedi Temple. He will be safe there." Qui-Gon remembered Shmi's vehement reaction to when he had suggested that last night, but he figured that she would approve now given the change in circumstances. And even if she didn't, Qui-Gon didn't really care if he was being frank. He was certain that Anakin was the Chosen One. He had an obligation to bring the boy before the Council, no matter what Shmi thought.

"Very well, Master Jinn," the queen said, regaining her cool composure. "You may be excused."

Qui-Gon bowed before the queen before leaving hastily, Obi-Wan falling into step with him as they exited the Queen's chambers. Taking a left down the hall, Qui-Gon made for the main hold but was stopped when Obi-Wan grabbed his arm.

"Master, forgive me, but I need some sort of an explanation as to what is going on," he said in a hushed voice. "What is so important about this boy? And what does Shmi Skywalker have to do with this?"

Qui-Gon glanced down the hall to where he knew Anakin was waiting in the main hold. "I apologize for keeping you in the dark, Obi-Wan," he said. "Things have been a bit hectic, as you know." Obi-Wan nodded, prompting him to continue. "I believe Anakin is the Chosen One," Qui-Gon said, getting straight to the point.

Obi-Wan frowned and arched an eyebrow skeptically. "You believe a slave could be the Chosen One?" he asked superciliously.

"Anakin is much more than a slave," Qui-Gon said with a disapproving frown. Obi-Wan's elitism was one of the many things Qui-Gon had been unable to quash, and it annoyed him to no end. "And besides, he is the son of a Jedi Knight," he added.

"How is that possible?" Obi-Wan asked. "Jedi are not allowed to reproduce."

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Think about it, my young Padawan," he said. "Why would I think Anakin was the Chosen One?" Obi-Wan tilted his head in confusion, clearly not following Qui-Gon's logic. "He has no father," Qui-Gon said with a hint of exasperation at Obi-Wan's denseness. "Shmi didn't break the code, but the Force chose her for some reason to carry its child," Qui-Gon said. While this was of course a lie, Obi-Wan didn't have to know about that. "She fled the Order when she became pregnant with Anakin."

"You mean to say that Anakin was conceived by the Force?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, deciding not to inform his Padawan about Sidious' role in Anakin's conception. That part of the story still didn't make much sense to Qui-Gon. Why would a Sith Lord willingly spawn the Chosen One? Wasn't the Chosen One supposed to bring balance to the Force? The Sith were all about disorder and chaos. It made no sense for Sidious to do such a thing. Unless he had interpreted the prophecy differently, that is…

"Forgive me, but that seems hard to believe," Obi-Wan said. His Padawan had always been skeptical of Qui-Gon's belief in the fabled Prophecy of the Chosen One, much to Qui-Gon's chagrin.

"You don't have to believe me," Qui-Gon said a bit tartly. "But how else can you explain his midichlorian count?"

Obi-Wan hesitated as he considered this. "His mother is strong in the Force," he said. "It's understandable why Anakin would be powerful as well."

"His midichlorian count is unprecedented, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon said emphatically. "It's double the value of either of ours, and it's even higher than Master Yoda's."

Obi-Wan shrugged, dismissing this point. "It seems much more likely to me that Skywalker is lying," he said. "How could there not be a father?"

"Shmi is not a liar," Qui-Gon growled. Surprised by this vehement defense, Obi-Wan inclined his head and raised his eyebrows. "This is a matter for the Council," Qui-Gon said, regaining his cool. "They will determine whether he is the Chosen One or not."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said obediently.

Both men turned their heads sharply to the right when they sensed someone approaching. Turning the corner and into their field of view, Padmé stopped abruptly when she saw the two Jedi staring at her.

"What?" she asked sharply.

"Shouldn't you be with the Queen?" Obi-Wan asked, he alone not knowing that she was the real Queen Amidala.

"I wanted to see how Anakin was doing," she said defensively.

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow in surprise. He would have thought that Padmé would have been irked or at least embarrassed by Anakin's infatuation with her. She was a queen, after all. He had assumed that she would have been relieved to get away from the irrepressible slave boy. Evidently, he had been wrong.

"I was just on my way to see him as well," Qui-Gon said, his tone gentler than usual as his perception of the high-strung young queen improved. "You may accompany me, if you wish."

Padmé's brow furrowed, seemingly caught off guard by Qui-Gon's cordiality with her. "Um… alright," she said. Qui-Gon held his hand out, beckoning her to lead the way. Pushing past him and Qui-Gon, the little queen made her way down the hallway and into an elevator.

The doors whooshed open silently as they arrived in the main hold. Qui-Gon wrapped his robes around him a bit tighter in the chill of the spacious room. Directly in front of them was Jar Jar, fast asleep on a chair with his feet propped up on a circular table. The Gungan had been true to his word, it seemed: he could indeed sleep anywhere. Seated on the opposite end of the table on a padded bench was Anakin. The boy looked especially small as he wrapped his arms around himself and held his knees to his chest. Anakin looked up when Padmé stepped off the elevator.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"It's very cold," he said in a small voice.

Padmé smiled faintly at the chilly boy and walked over toward a small technical station. Qui-Gon watched as she scooped up an embroidered orange quilt and made her way over to Anakin. Sitting down next to him on the bench, Padmé placed the quilt over Anakin's knees.

"You come from a warm planet, Ani," she said. "A little too warm for my taste," she added with a slight chuckle. "Space is cold."

Anakin looked up from Padmé to see him and Obi-Wan watching from a distance. Clearly less comfortable in their presence than in Padmé's, Anakin stiffened a bit and sat fully upright with his back pressed against the wall. "Who are you?" he asked, looking at Obi-Wan.

"This is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon said as he stepped forward. Obi-Wan followed him and extended his hand to Anakin.

"Are you a Jedi too?" Anakin asked as he shook Obi-Wan's much larger hand.

"Erm… yes," Obi-Wan said. Releasing Anakin's hand, Obi-Wan gave Qui-Gon a look as if to say _you think _he _is the Chosen One?_

Oblivious to Obi-Wan's pretentiousness, Anakin turned back to Padmé who was staring blankly at the table in front of her. "You seem sad," he observed with a tilt of his round head.

Padmé looked back up at Anakin quickly and gave him an unconvincing smile. "The Queen is worried," she said. "Her people are suffering, dying. She must convince the Senate to intervene, or…I'm not sure what will happen."

Anakin scrunched his nose as if he was trying to find a way to solve Padmé's problems. With a frown, he reached under the quilt and produced a small necklace. "I made this for you," he said as he extended the necklace to Padmé. "So you'd remember me. I carved it out of a Japor snippet. It will bring you good fortune.

"It's beautiful," Padmé said as she looked up from the necklace to Anakin's face. "But I don't need this to remember you by."

The corner of Anakin's mouth twitched, but he didn't smile fully. The boy seemed a bit aloof and far more reticent than his usually talkative self. He looked up at Qui-Gon with large, blue eyes.

"Why didn't I get to say goodbye to my mother?" he asked him.

Qui-Gon felt his heart break as he looked back at the confused and lonely boy. In their haste to depart, Qui-Gon hadn't had the time to consider how Anakin would feel about leaving Tatooine and his mother behind. Everything that had happened must have been dizzying and confounding to Anakin. Upon winning the podrace, Qui-Gon had practically dragged the boy to Watto and demanded he be freed as soon as possible. Thereafter, they had rushed out of Mos Espa with the hyperdrive parts. Nobody had told Anakin why they were leaving so quickly, and nobody had explained why his mother hadn't been able to say goodbye to him.

"I know some of this might come as a shock to you, but there were many things you mother didn't tell you," Qui-Gon said as he took a step forward and kneeled down so that he was at Anakin's eye level.

"What do you mean? What type of things?" Anakin asked.

Qui-Gon hesitated as Anakin gave him a questioning look. Shmi had obviously kept her former identity a secret for a reason, but now there wasn't much point in withholding information from Anakin any longer. When they arrived on Coruscant, the Jedi would know that Anakin was Shmi's son. It was time for Anakin to know the truth, or at least part of it.

"Your mother never told you who she was before she was a slave," Qui-Gon said.

Anakin's brow furrowed in visible confusion. "Before?" he repeated. "We've never been anything else."

"That's not actually true," Qui-Gon said gently. Anakin glanced up at Obi-Wan before returning his attention to Qui-Gon, a bemused expression still etched across his face. "Before you were born, your mother wasn't a slave living on Tatooine," Qui-Gon told him. "She was a Jedi Knight."

Anakin blinked a few times as he processed this information. "My mom… was a Jedi?" he said incredulously.

"She was," Qui-Gon said.

Anakin shook his head at once. "That can't be true," he said. "Jedi are supposed to be powerful. Why would she have become a slave if she was a Jedi?"

Qui-Gon pursed his lips and looked down for a moment. This was going to be difficult to explain to a nine-year-old, he realized. "Your mother had to run away," he said, looking back up to meet Anakin's disbelieving eyes. "She was threatened by a very powerful and dangerous man who wanted to steal you away from her."

"He wanted _me_?" Anakin said, dumbfounded. "What did he want from me?"

Qui-Gon stood up fully and turned his back on Anakin as he walked a few steps away. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that," he said, his eyes glazed over as he stared sightlessly at the elevator in front of him. "While his intentions may have be unclear, one thing was not," he said as he turned back around and refocused his eyes. "Your mother knew that you had to be hidden from this man at all costs. That is why she came to Tatooine. To hide you from him."

Anakin gaped at him silently for a moment. Next to him, Padmé was biting her lower lip with an extremely nervous expression. He could tell that she was struggling with the very same question which was plaguing him right now: would Shmi survive her encounter with Sidious' apprentice? Neither of them voiced this question for Anakin's sake, but they knew that if the duel ended in the way in which seemed most likely, poor Anakin would have to find out the truth eventually. And when he did, he would be devastated.

_Please don't die, Shmi, _Qui-Gon pled silently through the Force. _If not for me, for your son. Please don't leave him. Please don't leave us._

* * *

Dooku and the Sith stared at each other silently for a few moments, each of them sizing the other one up. Shmi's legs wobbled precariously as she looked back and forth between the two men warily.

"Who are you?" the zabrak asked once again, his lightsaber humming balefully by his side.

"I am Count Dooku," the silver haired former Jedi said in his deep, rich voice. "Skywalker is coming with me, Maul."

Maul glanced back at Shmi who took a half step back in fright. "You're too late," he said as he returned his attention to Dooku. "The boy is gone."

"I have no interest in the boy," Dooku said coolly as he produced the curved hilt of his lightsaber from his belt.

Maul growled angrily as he bent his knees. Holding his own lightsaber horizontally in front of him, Maul suddenly activated a second red blade from the opposite end of his hilt. Whiling the double-sided blade menacingly, Maul kicked at the sand in anticipation. Dooku frowned at his opponent, evidently offended by Maul's use of a double blade.

"You're no match for me, Jedi," Maul spat.

"I am no Jedi," Dooku responded as he activated his own blade. Shmi's eyes widened in shock; Dooku's blade was red just like the Sith's.

Maul was evidently caught off guard as well, so much so that he stumbled a bit when Dooku jumped at him. Shocked into action, Shmi activated her own blade and rushed to assist Dooku against Maul. It was clear she wasn't in the same league as these expert duelers, however. As she took a swing at the zabrak's legs, Maul parried her strike with the lower blade and twirled the hilt around so that the upper blade nearly sliced her directly down the middle. Recoiling, Shmi was rendered defenseless when Maul kicked her cleanly in the chest, sending her flying back from where she'd come from.

Landing on her back with a thud, Shmi winced in pain as she propped herself back up on her elbows. A few feet away, Dooku and Maul were dueling with exceptional speed and grace. There was nothing she would be able to do to help Dooku; Maul was simply too powerful for her.

Fortunately, it seemed as if Dooku didn't require his assistance against Maul. Impeccable technique clashed with raw power, and as the fight wore on, Dooku was clearly gaining the upper hand. Shmi struggled to her feet as Maul continued to retreat back toward where she had landed. Backtracking so as to avoid the three blades, Shmi watched in awe as Dooku feinted, parried, and attacked with unprecedented grace and speed. She had known that Dooku had been an expert duelist back when he had been a Jedi Master, but she never could have expected him to be this powerful.

It was clear that Dooku was no longer a Jedi. The red blade combined with his freakish dueling abilities confirmed this for Shmi; Dooku had become a Sith Lord. But if that was the case, how come he was dueling with Maul? Why weren't they allies? And why hadn't Maul heard of Dooku whereas Dooku had already been familiar with Maul?

Shmi returned her attention to the duel when Dooku swiftly managed to penetrate Maul's defenses with a masterful bit of swordsmanship. Slicing upward, Dooku sheared off the lower half of Maul's hilt causing his second blade to deactivate and fall to the ground. Stunned, Maul was rendered defenseless when Dooku lifted him up into the air by his throat. The maimed hilt fell out of Maul's hands as he clawed at his neck desperately. Seizing her opportunity, Shmi called Maul's blade to her hand and walked around Maul so that she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Dooku.

"You… you cannot defeat me," Maul struggled to say as he strained against Dooku's Force choke. "I… I cannot be beaten."

"Is that so?" Dooku asked as he quirked his eyebrow in amusement.

"I… I have been trained… by Darth Sidious himself!" Maul roared.

Dooku snorted and shook his head. "Sidious is nothing compared to my master," he said. Maul's eyes bulged as Dooku brought his fingers together, strengthening his grip on Maul's throat.

"No! No!" Maul screamed, his voice sounding terribly strained.

"Goodbye, Maul," Dooku said.

Shmi and Dooku were suddenly thrown off their feet as Maul screeched violently. Sand billowed over them and coated them in a fine layer of dust. Coughing, Shmi held her hand up to her eyes as the sand settled. She could make out Maul's figure running away back toward his speeder. Somehow he had managed to escape Dooku's grip.

"No!" Dooku yelled as he got to his feet. "He can't get away!"

But Maul was too far away. Leaping onto his speeder, the zabrak zoomed away without looking back. Dooku chased after him for a moment before stopping. "No!" he yelled again as he slashed down at the sand with his lightsaber.

Shmi watched him nervously. She didn't know what to make of Dooku. On the one hand, he had saved her from Maul, but on the other he was very clearly a Sith or a comparable dark side wielder. Should she try to run away while she had the chance?

This thought was dispelled when Dooku sheathed his blade and turned back around to face her. Sensing her fear, Dooku reattached his lightsaber to his belt and smoothed out his previously furious expression. "Are you alright?" he asked as he walked over to her.

Shmi took a step back and held her finger over the trigger of the two lightsabers in her hand. "What are you doing here, Dooku?" she asked.

"I thought that would be obvious," Dooku said as he held out his hands to indicate that he was not a threat to her. "I have come to rescue you."

"How did you find me?" she asked. "And why do you have a Sith's blade?"

"I will explain everything in time, my dear," he said. "For now, we must hurry."

Shmi eyed Dooku suspiciously. He seemed no different than how she remembered him, despite the fact that he was now a dark side wielder. The Jedi had taught her that the dark side consumed a person, rendering them unrecognizable from their previous self. How come Dooku had not followed that pattern?

"Shmi, please," Dooku said. "Sidious knows you are here. We must leave as soon as possible."

"I can't leave," she said. "I have a tracking chip."

"A tracking chip?" Dooku repeated. "Whatever for?"

"I'm a slave, Dooku," she said. "Did you not know that?"

Dooku blinked a few times in surprise. Evidently he had not known this. "A slave?" he said. He looked away briefly, his brow furrowed in disbelief and confusion. "We must rectify this at once," he said. "Where is your… master?"

Shmi pointed toward the city on the horizon. "In Mos Espa," she said. "But you won't be able to purchase my freedom with credits. Those are no good out here."

"Oh, I don't intend to do that," Dooku said vaguely. "Lead me to him. We must make haste."

"Now wait just a minute," Shmi said, holding up her lightsaber hilt and pointing it at his chest. "You have to explain yourself first."

Dooku rolled his eyes in a fashion highly atypical of his normally gentlemanly self. "Very well," he said exasperatedly. "But can I at least explain on the way there?"

Shmi hesitated for a moment as she considered. He seemed trustworthy enough. Shmi could not detect any malintent from the Count. But how could it be that he was wielding a red blade? She was unable to reconcile these two observations.

"Okay," she said finally. It wasn't as if she had much of a choice in this situation. It wasn't as if Dooku was going to let her get away. He had clearly come to collect her for some reason. Was he intending to take her to his master whom he had mentioned to Maul?

"Lead the way," Dooku said.

Shmi attached Maul's damaged blade to her belt but kept her own weapon wrapped firmly in her right hand. Dooku didn't seem to notice nor care about this as he fell in step with her as they began the long walk back toward Mos Espa.


	5. Masters and Apprentices

_Coruscant_

"Master Jinn, welcome back to Coruscant. What news have you?"

"Thank you, Master," Qui-Gon said, bowing his head slightly to the stoic and austere Master Windu. "My trip to Naboo was eventful to say the least. I assume you heard about the Federation invasion?"

"We have, although the Trade Federation has gone to considerable lengths to cover it up," Windu said. "It seems unlikely that the Senate will vote to take action, however."

Qui-Gon nodded absently. He hadn't come to the Council to discuss politics. "Masters, I have a subject of much greater significance which I would like to broach," he said, his fingers interlaced in front of him as he stood with a wide stance before the Council.

Windu arched an eyebrow curiously as he leaned forward in his seat. "Go on," he said.

Qui-Gon paused momentarily as he looked up from Windu out the window. The busy Coruscant skyline was painted a fierce orange as the sun descended beyond the horizon, the lingering rays of daylight bombarding his retinas, causing him to squint. "Upon departing Naboo, we were forced to land on Tatooine after our ship's hyperdrive was damaged," Qui-Gon said. "It was there where I encountered a vergence in the Force."

"A vergence, you say?" Yoda said.

"Located around a person?" Windu asked.

"A boy," Qui-Gon corrected. "His cells have the highest concentration of midichloians I have ever seen in a life form."

"You refer to the prophecy of the one who will bring balance to the Force?" Windu asked. "You believe it's this boy?"

"I don't presume –"

"But you do," Yoda interrupted as he pointed a stubby finger at him. "Revealed your opinion is."

"I request the boy be tested, Master," Qui-Gon said.

Yoda tilted his head back a bit as he considered. "Trained as a Jedi, you request for him?" he asked.

Qui-Gon hesitated as he considered what Shmi had told him. "Finding him was the will of the Force," he compromised, deciding not to commit to a position. "I have no doubt of that."

The Masters all looked at each other for a few moment, deliberating silently amongst themselves. Finally, Windu sighed a bit and waved his hands. "Bring him before us," he said, a bit begrudgingly.

Qui-Gon bowed his head once again to Windu. "Thank you, Masters," he said. "There something else you must know about the boy."

"Oh?" Yoda said. "What is that?"

Qui-Gon licked his lips nervously. No doubt, Shmi would not want him to reveal Anakin's identity to the Council, but Qui-Gon felt he had little choice. The Jedi would find out one way or another who Anakin's mother was.

"This boy is the son of Shmi Skywalker," he blurted out.

Windu blinked furiously as he internalized this information. "Shmi Skywalker?" he said incredulously. "She is… alive?"

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and nodded. "She is, Master," he said. "Or at least, she was when I left her on Tatooine."

"What do you mean, Master Jinn?" Windu asked with a dangerous edge to his voice.

Qui-Gon looked down, unable to meet Windu's intense gaze. "I discovered Shmi on Tatooine by accident," he said to his feet. "I learned that she had fled the Jedi Order when she became pregnant with her son, Anakin. She feared she would be expelled from the Order if her secret was revealed."

"Are you implying that Skywalker broke the Jedi Code?" Windu asked icily, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"No, Master," Qui-Gon said quickly. "Shmi did not break the code."

Windu frowned and scratched his bald head in confusion. "If what you tell us is true and she was indeed pregnant, then she must have broken the code," he said.

"That is not true, Master," Qui-Gon said defensively.

"How come?" Windu asked.

"Because Anakin has no father," Qui-Gon said. "Not in the conventional sense."

The Council was silent for a few moments. A few of the masters gave each other bemused looks, yet Windu was staring unblinkingly back at Qui-Gon. "I am afraid I don't understand, Master Jinn," Master Koon said. "How can it be that the boy has no father?"

Relieved to have an excuse to look away from Windu's gaze, Qui-Gon turned to face the Kel Dor master. "I believe he was spawned by the Sith Lord Darth Sidious," he said.

"He was _spawned _by the Sith?" Windu asked incredulously.

"I believe so," Qui-Gon said calmly.

Windu looked at Yoda for a moment before turning back to Qui-Gon. "What makes you say this?" he asked.

"I only tell you what Shmi told me," Qui-Gon said humbly. "She believes that Sidious created Anakin so as to use him to destroy the Jedi." Windu's eyes widened in shock, yet he did not interrupt so Qui-Gon continued. "She knew that Anakin had to be hidden from Sidious at all costs. That is why she fled to Tatooine. She would have stayed there hidden forevermore had I not found her."

"Is Skywalker still on Tatooine?" Master Mundi asked.

"She had to stay behind because she is currently a slave under the ownership of a Toydarian named Watto," Qui-Gon explained.

"Shmi is a _slave_?" Windu exclaimed loudly. Qui-Gon turned back to Windu with heightened interest. It was clear that Windu was deeply distressed by this information, so much so that he had slipped up and called Shmi by her first name. He had never thought that Windu cared much for Shmi even though he had been her master for over a decade. Evidently he had been wrong, however.

"She is," Qui-Gon said. "And I am afraid it gets worse."

"Worse?" Windu repeated.

"While I was on Tatooine, Sidious was somehow able to uncover Shmi's location," Qui-Gon said heavily. "She told me to take her son and run. Since she still had the chip, she was unable to come with us. Instead, she decided to stay behind and face Sidious' apprentice whom he sent to kill her."

"What!?" Windu cried. "You left her to die?"

"I wanted to stay, but –"

"No! This is inexcusable!" Windu interrupted angrily. "You should have contacted the Council!"

"I wanted to, but –"

"Skywalker does not stand a chance against a Sith Lord! She will be killed at once!"

"I disagree, Master," Qui-Gon said quickly before Windu could interrupt him once again. "Shmi demonstrated an unprecedented level of control over the Force. I believe her powers have only grown since she left the Order."

"I understand that Skywalker is a powerful Force sensitive, but how can you possibly consider her an equal to a Sith?" Windu asked viciously.

Qui-Gon had no answer for this. Instinctively, he knew that Shmi was still alive. Whether that meant she won the duel or not, Qui-Gon couldn't be sure. He couldn't reveal this belief to the Council, otherwise that would rouse suspicions as to why he had such a strong Force bond with Shmi.

"Return to Tatooine, we must," Yoda said unexpectedly. "In terrible danger, Skywalker still is."

"If she's even still alive," Windu said bitingly.

"I will return to Tatooine as soon as Anakin is evaluated," Qui-Gon said.

"You will do no such thing," Windu snapped. "Your priority should continue to be the Queen. Besides, you have made already made a mess of this situation anyway. I will go to Tatooine myself."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to object, but he managed to stop himself before he said something potentially damaging. There was no way he would be able to convince Windu to allow him to go instead. This might actually be a blessing in disguise, however. Perhaps Windu would be able to persuade his former Padawan to return to Coruscant with him. He knew that Shmi had rebuffed him when he had proposed this, but it was possible that Windu would be able to reach her in a way he in which he was unable.

"Very well," Qui-Gon said.

"You are excused, Master Jinn," Windu said icily. "Bring the boy before us as soon as he is able."

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon intoned, bowing one last time before Windu. "He is outside with Obi-Wan. I will call for him now."

Windu flourished his hand, dismissing him. Qui-Gon departed speedily, eager to get away from Windu's scrutinous and contemptuous glare. Passing through the sliding door, Qui-Gon walked over toward Obi-Wan and Anakin who were waiting by a marble column. The typically loquacious little boy was looking especially sullen as he leaned against the column and stared off blankly at the red carpeted floor. Obi-Wan was looking somewhat uncomfortable as he stood motionlessly a few feet away with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

When Qui-Gon approached, Anakin looked up and his mood seemed to brighten a fraction. "How did it go, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, looking relieved that his babysitting duties had come to an end.

"Not as bad as it could have gone," Qui-Gon said. He hadn't expected Windu to react well to the news that he had left Shmi behind, and that had been exactly what had happened. Otherwise, he figured his meeting with the Council had gone fairly well. "The Council wishes to see you, Anakin," Qui-Gon said, turning to the boy.

"Me?" he asked. "Why?"

"They want to test your abilities," Qui-Gon told him vaguely.

Anakin swallowed hard and shifted his feet. "Will you come with me?" he asked in a small voice.

"I'm afraid I am not allowed," Qui-Gon said. Lowering himself so that he was at Anakin's eye level, Qui-Gon placed a reassuring hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Do not be afraid, young one," he said. "The Council merely wants to ask you a few questions, that's all. Do you think you can do that?"

Anakin frowned a bit, but he bobbed his head nonetheless. "I think so," he mumbled.

"That's a good man," Qui-Gon said with a smile as he ruffled Anakin's hair. "Obi-Wan and I will be right here waiting for you." Standing upright, Qui-Gon glanced at his Padawan who was giving him a curious look which he wasn't quite able to identify. He seemed almost… jealous? But it was more than that. Something a bit more inquisitive.

"Right through those doors?" Anakin asked, shaking Qui-Gon from his musings.

"That's right," he said. Anakin took a deep breath and walked past Qui-Gon towards the chamber. Without a look back, the door opened before him and he stepped inside.

"He's a good kid," Obi-Wan said as they watched the door close behind Anakin.

"Indeed," Qui-Gon said as he began to walk away down the hall. Obi-Wan followed him as they made their way to the balcony. "Now tell me, my young apprentice. What is bothering you?"

"What is bothering me?" Obi-Wan repeated. "I don't understand."

"You can speak openly with me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said as they stepped outside. "I can tell that something is on your mind." Obi-Wan didn't say anything for a long while. Squinting in the late afternoon sun, Qui-Gon turned to look at his Padawan. "The boy distresses you, doesn't he?" Qui-Gon asked.

"No, not exactly," Obi-Wan said, not meeting Qui-Gon's eyes. "It's you that is distressing me, Master."

"Me?" Qui-Gon said, surprised. "How so?"

"You are acting too recklessly with this boy," Obi-Wan said. "I believe your judgment is compromised when it comes to him."

Qui-Gon was about to offer a stern retort when he caught himself. It was awfully brave of Obi-Wan to voice his opinion like this, and Qui-Gon was proud of him even if he happened to disagree with him. Obi-Wan was oftentimes too complacent and willing to concur with his master even if he didn't necessarily agree. The fact that he was voicing this opinion indicated the extent of his concerns.

"What makes you say that?" Qui-Gon asked instead.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and looked down from the horizon. "Forgive me if this is out of line, Master, but it seems to me as if you… have become attached to this boy."

"Attached?"

"And he to you," Obi-Wan continued. "I am afraid your feelings for Anakin are clouding your judgement."

"I can assure you, that is not the case," Qui-Gon said a bit tersely. "I am merely being kind to the boy, that is all. He is far away from home and he misses his mother terribly. I am simply attempting to put him at ease and make him feel comfortable."

Obi-Wan shrugged a bit and dropped the issue. Qui-Gon turned to look at the sunset once again, but continued to watch Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye. If he was being truthful with himself, Obi-Wan's assessment was far more accurate than even he had come to realize. He had developed an attachment to the boy. How could he not have? He was Shmi's son! It was natural for him to want to protect and comfort his wife's son. But was that really the only reason?

"Either way, the boy will not pass the Council's tests, Master, and you know it," Obi-Wan said. "He is far too old."

"Anakin will become a Jedi," Qui-Gon insisted. "I promise you."

"Don't defy the Council, Master," Obi-Wan pleaded. "Not again."

"I will do what I must," Qui-Gon said.

"Master, you could be sitting on the Council by now if you would just follow the code," Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon smirked a bit at this; Obi-Wan didn't know that he had already been offered a position on the Council over ten years ago but he had declined it. "They will not go along with you this time."

"You still have much to learn, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon said dismissively.

Irritated by Qui-Gon's recalcitrance, Obi-Wan frowned but didn't attempt to convince him otherwise. "What about the boy's mother?" he asked. "What is your relationship with her?"

"What?" Qui-Gon asked abruptly. "Relationship? What relationship?"

Obi-Wan blinked a few times, surprised by Qui-Gon's reaction. "I uh… I just wanted to know if you knew her before. You overlapped at the Temple, did you not?"

"Oh," Qui-Gon, feeling foolish for misinterpreting Obi-Wan's question. He was getting increasingly paranoid that his secret was going to be revealed what with Windu's suspicions and the Council's scrutiny into his activities of late. "Yes, I knew her," he said, forcing himself to remain calm. "We were acquaintances."

"That's not what I heard," Obi-Wan said. "I was told that you were close friends."

"Who told you that?" Qui-Gon asked sharply.

"Erm… Master Nu," Obi-Wan said. "Was she wrong?"

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and shook his head. "We were… friendly," Qui-Gon said faintly. "What is the point of this interrogation, Obi-Wan?"

"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan said at once. "I was just curious to know more about her, that's all. I met her once when I was a youngling."

"Did you now?" Qui-Gon asked curiously. "What did you think?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "She was kind of… aloof, I suppose," he said. "She didn't say much." Qui-Gon smiled wryly. That sounded a lot like Shmi. She had always been an introverted and taciturn person. She had only ever really broke out of her shell when she was with him. "That wasn't my impression of her on Tatooine, however," Obi-Wan continued. "She seemed much more…"

"Much more what?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Just more," Obi-Wan said. "More everything. She was quite intense."

Qui-Gon nodded, agreeing with this assessment. No doubt, Shmi had done a lot of growing over the past ten years. She had transformed into a decisive and strong-willed woman. Motherhood must have had a positive effect on her. "You're quite right, Obi-Wan," he said. "She has become a very powerful woman in more ways than one."

Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's eyes on him. He suspected his Padawan wasn't being fully truthful with him. There was something that was weighing on his mind which he hadn't been willing to share with him. Could it be that he suspected something? Why else would he be asking about his relationship with Shmi and Anakin?

"May I be excused, Master?" Obi-Wan suddenly asked. "There was something I wanted to do while we were back at the Temple."

"Of course," Qui-Gon said. "I will call for you if I require you."

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said with a slight bow before spinning around to leave the patio in a hurry. Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he listened to his Padawan's receding footsteps. There was definitely something on his mind, and based on his reticence it was something concerning him. He would have to keep an eye on his Padawan in the future.

Sighing heavily, Qui-Gon leaned forward and gripped the railing wearily. Eyes still closed, he shifted his attention from his Padawan to Shmi. He knew she was still alive. He was confident that he would have felt something had she perished. Beyond that, however, he didn't have much to go on. She could have lost the duel and been taken to Sidious for all he knew.

He hated not knowing. After all these years, they had finally been reunited but now they were torn apart once again by Sidious. Would they ever get a chance to be together? It seemed unlikely in light of recent events. The only way they could ever truly be together freely was if Sidious was defeated.

Perhaps that was why Qui-Gon was so insistent that Anakin was the Chosen One. It gave him hope that Sidious could somehow be defeated. Anakin must be the one to defeat the Sith and bring balance to the Force, he reasoned. He knew it was horribly selfish of him to place this terrible burden on the young boy, but he couldn't help himself. Anakin truly was his one and only hope.

Was that why he cared so much for the boy? Because he wanted to use him? Qui-Gon knew at once that this wasn't true. He had been immediately drawn to the boy far before he knew that he was Shmi's son or that he was potentially the Chosen One. There was something intrinsic about Anakin which had enticed him, yet he couldn't quite identify what it was. It was as if he had been drawn to the boy through the Force. Perhaps that was why he had chosen Watto's shop after all, because the boy had unwittingly called him there…

He and Anakin were bound together through the Force, Qui-Gon realized with a start. How come he hadn't noticed this before? Perhaps the shock of rediscovering Shmi had muddled his mind a bit, and so it was only now that he was realizing this. He could feel Anakin clearly through the Force, just as clearly as he could feel Obi-Wan. Yet Qui-Gon had only known the boy for a little over two days. How could it be that they were so closely interconnected?

He could feel the boy's fear. It was palpable and it worried Qui-Gon. He was afraid of the Jedi and he was afraid of losing his mother. He couldn't blame the boy. After all, he had led an extremely humble life on Tatooine up to this point. The abrupt nature of his departure combined with the grandiose environments of Coruscant and the Jedi Temple had undeniably been a serious shock to the system for Anakin. He would have to do a better job acclimating Anakin to the broader galaxy once he became his Padawan.

Qui-Gon was determined that this would happen. He knew now that he and he alone ought to be the boy's mentor. He understood Anakin in a unique way as he alone was the only Jedi who fully comprehended the nature of Anakin's conception and truly understood his greater purpose. Qui-Gon had to become Anakin's master, because only then would he be able to fulfill his destiny as the Chosen One. Only then would he be able to bring balance to the Force. Of this, Qui-Gon was certain.

* * *

_Tatooine_

"You're a Sith Lord, aren't you Dooku?"

Dooku glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as they trudged through the sand on their way back into Mos Espa. The wind was beginning to pick up and both of them were leaning forward and holding their hands up to protect their faces.

"Not at all," Dooku claimed, talking loudly over the gale. "Can't we talk about this later in more… civilized conditions?"

Shmi conceded the point. The wind was becoming overwhelming. While she didn't feel comfortable around Dooku, she knew there was little point in interrogating him in the midst of an impending sandstorm.

"Come on, I'll lead you to shelter," she yelled once they reached the outskirts of town. "We'll be able to talk there."

Dooku offered no objection, so Shmi led him off the main road toward the slave quarters where she lived. Shmi closed her mouth tightly as sand billowed upward and coated her lips. She really hated sand.

Finally they reached her humble home. The wind was wailing powerfully by this point. The sandstorm had kicked into full gear. Entering her code, Shmi rushed inside, Dooku close behind. The door shut behind him, yet the sounds of the storm persisted. Running her hands through her hair, Shmi shook her head to dislodge the irritating sand.

"Let's go to the kitchen," she said to Dooku who was wiping the front of his tunic irritably. Without comment, Dooku followed her down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. "Sit," she ordered, pointing to the table in a manner reminiscent to how she had treated Qui-Gon when he had arrived unexpectedly the day before. "I want answers and I want them now, Dooku."

Dooku sat down and looked up at her with an innocent smile. "What do you wish to know, my dear?"

Shmi crossed her arms and loomed over him with a frown. "Where did you get that red blade?" she asked, gesturing to his belt.

"My master provided it to me," he said smoothly.

"Who is your master? Not Yoda, I assume?"

"No, not Yoda," Dooku said with a slight chuckle. "I have a new master now."

"Will you tell me who they are?"

Dooku shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have been prohibited from sharing that information with you," he said. "In time you will meet him, however."

"Is that so?" Shmi asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You think I'm going to go with you willingly?"

"I do," Dooku said easily.

"Well you're mistaken," she said, her hand hovering over her own lightsaber. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Dooku."

"If you do not, Sidious will come for you," Dooku said insouciantly as he ran his finger along the edge of the table with a bored expression. "And unlike last time, I will not be here to save you."

"You didn't save me," Shmi said at once.

Dooku snorted and gave her a skeptical look. "Believe that, if you wish," he said.

Shmi bit her tongue angrily. She knew she didn't stand a chance against Sidious if Dooku wasn't there to assist her. Her fight with Maul had proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt. She wasn't in proper shape to engage a Sith. "What does your master want with me?" she asked. "Why did he send you to collect me?"

"Only my master can explain that fully," Dooku said. "He does not tell me everything."

"Well what do you know?" she asked.

Dooku shrugged and craned his head up toward the ceiling lackadaisically. "I know he is very interested in you, Shmi," he said. "He wants to train you for something."

"Train me?" she repeated. "What for?"

"I don't know," Dooku said as his eyes returned to hers. "All I know is he believes you are imperative for his plans."

"What plans?" she asked.

"To restore order and balance to the galaxy," Dooku said.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what it sounds like," Dooku said.

"That sounds like something a Sith would espouse," Shmi said. "The Jedi have brought peace to the galaxy. Order doesn't need to be restored."

Dooku tilted his head in disappointment. "Surely you don't believe that, Shmi," he said. "The galaxy is on the precipice of a conflagration of the highest degree. The Jedi are not capable nor are they willing to stop this impending catastrophe."

"What are you talking about? What catastrophe?"

"Sidious' power grows by the day," Dooku said in a low voice. "Yet the Jedi do nothing to stop him. They are fools, all of them. He is operating directly underneath their noses yet they have been unable to detect anything. They have become complacent, and consequently they have become blind to the ascent of the darkness."

Shmi swallowed hard and pursed her lips. "How do you know all this?" she asked.

"My master is wise," Dooku said vaguely. "He alone appreciates the danger which Sidious poses to the galaxy."

"Then why doesn't he stop him?" she asked.

"He is frail," Dooku explained. "His powers have been sapped by age and trauma. He alone cannot face Sidious. I suspect that is why he requires you."

"But why me?" she asked. "What's so special about me?"

"I don't know," Dooku said honestly. "My master did not tell me." Shmi frowned and looked away. Dooku's answers hadn't been particularly comforting to her. They were vague to say the least. Nonetheless, she felt as if Dooku was being truthful with her. "I can tell you this, Shmi," Dooku said, causing her to spin her neck to look at him. "If you wish to protect your son from Sidious, you will pledge yourself to my master."

"What does Anakin have to do with this?" she asked.

"Sidious desires your son," Dooku said. "You know this. The only way to assure his safety is to defeat Sidious. The Jedi will not be able to do this and deep down, you know this to be true."

Feeling conflicted, Shmi looked down toward the floor. It was true that her faith in the Jedi had been fractured. They had had ten years to do something about Sidious, yet in all that time they had done nothing. Because of their incompetence, she had been forced to hide here on Tatooine to protect Anakin from Sidious. Now that she had been revealed, she had to run once again. She knew she couldn't return to the Jedi, so who would she turn to? Perhaps she should give Dooku's mysterious master a chance.

But why had he given Dooku a red blade? Dooku's vague answers had done little to convince her that he was being honest about not being a Sith. But then again, why would his master be a Sith if he was trying to defeat Sidious? Wouldn't they have been allies if they were both Sith?

"When do you think this storm will pass?" Dooku asked conversationally.

Shmi looked up and blinked a few times, her mind feeling sluggish as she processed this question. "Um… it's hard to say," she said at last. "These storms can last anywhere from hours to days. We just have to wait it out."

"Very well," Dooku said as he crossed his legs and leaned back in the rickety chair. "When the storm passes, we will see about freeing you."

"Okay," Shmi said weakly, looking away from Dooku's sympathetic expression.

"I'm so sorry you were forced to come here," Dooku said softly. "You know how much I care for you and Qui-Gon. Had I known you had run here, I would have helped you."

Shmi nodded, her eyes still transfixed on the table. "I know," she said. Dooku had always acted like a quasi-father-in-law for her. Other than Qui-Gon, he had been the one she had missed the most during her time in hiding. "But you understand why I didn't come to you."

"I do," Dooku said plaintively. "Let me help you now, Shmi. You don't have to live in fear anymore. My master and I can protect and empower you."

She could only hope that he was telling her the truth.

* * *

_Coruscant_

Qui-Gon had been meditating on the patio for nearly an hour when he was finally disturbed. Sensing Anakin's bizarrely familiar Force presence approaching, Qui-Gon opened his eyes.

"Master Qui-Gon, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, Anakin?" Qui-Gon said without turning.

"They've finished," Anakin said. "They want to talk to both of us."

"Very well," Qui-Gon said as he stood up and produced his comlink. "Let me call Obi-Wan and then we can go in together."

A few minutes later, Obi-Wan arrived, his robes billowing behind him as he rushed down the long hallway towards them. "Is something wrong?" Qui-Gon asked when he saw his Padawan's expression. His face was sweaty and his eyes were wide as if he was in shock.

Obi-Wan glanced down at Anakin and blinked a few times rapidly. "Um… no," he said unconvincingly.

Qui-Gon frowned, but he decided now was not a good time to address Obi-Wan's odd behavior. "Come," he said instead. "The Council requests our presence."

Turning around, Qui-Gon led them toward the chamber. Walking though the sliding door, Qui-Gon was immediately set on edge when he saw all twelve masters staring at him intently. Overcoming his discomfort, Qui-Gon persevered toward the center of the chamber. Obi-Wan stopped next to him, and Anakin tried to hide in between the two of them. Qui-Gon took the boy gently yet firmly by the shoulders and pushed him forward. Keeping his hands on Anakin's quivering shoulders, he oriented the nervous boy so that he was facing Master Yoda.

It was nighttime by now on Coruscant, yet the room was still illuminated from the busy skyline of the ecumenopolis. Anakin fidgeted and stared determinedly out the window at the traffic, his foot tapping rapidly against the marble floor.

"The Force is strong with him," Ki-Adi Mundi said, breaking the tense silence.

"He is to be trained then?" Qui-Gon asked, squeezing Anakin's shoulders reassuringly.

The Council was silent for a few moments. Finally, Windu spoke. "No," he said, his arm rested casually against the back of his chair as he leaned back. "He will not be trained."

"No?" Qui-Gon repeated incredulously.

"He is too old," Windu said.

"He _is _the Chosen One," Qui-Gon said passionately. "You must see it!"

"Hmm… clouded this boy's future is," Yoda said pensively.

Qui-Gon bit his tongue, forcing him to remain calm. How obstinate could the Council be? Why should it matter if Anakin was too old? He was the most naturally-gifted individual the Council had ever come across! "I will train him then," Qui-Gon said definitively. "I take Anakin as my Padawan learner."

"No, you will not," Windu said. "If what you tell us is true, and the boy is indeed the creation of a Sith Lord, it is far too dangerous for him to receive training."

"But that is exactly why he must be trained!" Qui-Gon insisted angrily. "He must become a Jedi!"

Windu waived his hand dismissively and looked away, clearly agitated by Qui-Gon's recalcitrance. "An apprentice you have, Qui-Gon," Yoda said. "Impossible, to take on a second."

"The Council forbids it," Windu added helpfully.

"Obi-Wan is ready," Qui-Gon said. When Obi-Wan didn't back him up, Qui-Gon turned around and gave his Padawan a look. "Isn't that right, Obi-Wan?" he asked pointedly.

"Huh? Oh, um… yes," Obi-Wan said, looking as if he didn't know what he had agreed to.

"Ready so early, are you?" Yoda asked skeptically. "What know you of ready?"

Obi-Wan gulped audibly and said nothing. "He is headstrong, and he has much to learn of the living Force, but he is capable," Qui-Gon said, interceding on his Padawan's behalf. "There is little more he can learn from me."

"Young Skywalker's fate will be decided later," Yoda said.

"Now is not the time for this," Windu said as he leaned forward in his seat. "The Senate is voting for a new Supreme Chancellor. Queen Amidala is returning home, which will put pressure on the Federation, which could widen the confrontation. You must go with the queen to Naboo. I will go to Tatooine to find Skywalker."

"Are you going to bring her back with you?" Anakin asked suddenly.

Windu's eyes narrowed as he looked back at Anakin. "That is my intention, yes," he said stiffly. Anakin bobbed his head and looked down at his feet, intimidated by Windu's glare. Yet Qui-Gon could sense the boy's hope. It was clear that he desperately wanted to see his mother again.

"Leave now, you must," Yoda said. "With you, the boy you will take. Stay here, he cannot."

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon said through gritted teeth. "Come on, Anakin," he muttered to the boy. "We're going." Placing his hand on Anakin's back, Qui-Gon led the boy out of the chamber, Obi-Wan following close behind.

As the door closed behind him, Qui-Gon finally took his hand off Anakin's back and ran it through his hair angrily. He was incensed! The Council was crippled by its antiquated dogmatism. They were playing directly into Sidious' hand by denying Anakin the training which he so clearly needed.

"I can't believe them!" he exclaimed as he stormed down the hallway. Anakin rushed after him, having to jog in order to keep up with his long strides. "It's asinine!"

"You can't disobey the direct will of the Council," Obi-Wan intoned as they took a turn.

"Watch me," Qui-Gon spat as they reached an elevator. Mashing the button with his fist, Qui-Gon fumed internally as he waited for the blasted elevator to arrive. What was he going to do now? He had promised to look after Anakin to Shmi. If he wasn't going to be allowed to take him as his Padawan, how else would he be able to protect him? He would have to leave the Order.

There was the possibility that Windu would succeed and bring Shmi back from Tatooine. But what would that accomplish? He doubted she would be allowed back into the Order. The Council was too stubborn and dogmatic to let her back in after all that had happened. They would milk her of any information she had about Sidious and then abandon her and Anakin. Qui-Gon couldn't allow that to happen. Shmi and Anakin needed protection right now, and if the Jedi were not going to be able to provide it, he would have to find a way to do it himself. Was it possible that Dooku would be able to help him? His former master surely had the resources to do such a thing. Whether he was willing was an entirely separate question, however. It was risky business making oneself a direct enemy of a Sith Lord like Sidious.

Stepping into the elevator, Qui-Gon placed his hand back on Anakin's shoulder as they began to descend toward the hangar. The boy was still trembling slightly, whether with fear or disappointment, Qui-Gon couldn't tell for sure. He seemed to be soothed by Qui-Gon's proximity, however, so Qui-Gon kept his hand on Anakin's shoulder. All the while, he could feel Obi-Wan's eyes on him. He was trying to be subtle about it, but Qui-Gon was able to read his Padawan like none other. It was obvious to him that something was amiss with Obi-Wan, but he was too frustrated in the moment to give it much thought.

When the elevator doors opened, the three stepped outside and made their way toward the launch pad where the queen's ship was being prepared. Wind whipped them directly in the face as they left the enclosed area of the hangar, and Qui-Gon noticed Anakin begin to shiver at once. He clearly wasn't used to the cold.

"It's so disrespectful," Qui-Gon said abruptly as he wrapped his robes around him tighter. "The Council can't honestly think that Anakin is too dangerous to receive training."

"It's not disrespect, Master, it's the truth," Obi-Wan said.

"From your point of view," Qui-Gon said irritably.

"No, it's an objective fact," Obi-Wan snapped. Surprised at Obi-Wan's caustic tone, Qui-Gon stopped walking and gave his Padawan a strange look. "Although I can understand why the truth is something you might contend with. You tend to mask it, don't you Master?"

"What are you talking about?" Qui-Gon asked, utterly stunned by this outburst. He had never seen Obi-Wan this way. He seemed to be angry at him about something. What had he done to antagonize Obi-Wan so drastically?

"You've been lying to me this whole time, Master," Obi-Wan said furiously, his index finger pointed at Qui-Gon's chest.

"I have not been lying to you," Qui-Gon said defensively. "What have I lied to you about?"

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin who was watching from a few feet away with a concerned expression. "I know your secret," he whispered as he took a step toward Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. Had he really figured it all out? Was that why he had been asking so much about Shmi? But all he could do was speculate about the nature of his relationship with Shmi. Obi-Wan was acting as if he had conclusive proof about his secret. What could he have possibly uncovered?

"Perhaps we should talk in private," Qui-Gon suggested quietly. If Obi-Wan somehow had learned the truth about his marriage to Shmi, he didn't want it to be revealed to Anakin. At least not like this. In time, perhaps, but certainly not now.

Obi-Wan considered this request for a moment before nodding. "Fine," he said bitterly.

"Anakin, why don't you go on the ship," Qui-Gon proposed to the boy. Anakin nodded vigorously and sped away, clearly wanting to get away from the arguing men. "Now," Qui-Gon said once Anakin had clambered up the ramp and disappeared into the hull of the ship. "What is this about?"


	6. Fathers

_Coruscant_

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about," Obi-Wan said in a low voice. "How long did you think this charade was going to last?" Qui-Gon clenched his jaw and looked away. He still didn't understand how Obi-Wan had figured it out. How could he have possibly uncovered the truth? The only other person in the galaxy who knew his secret was Dooku, and he was quite sure that Obi-Wan hadn't talked to him.

"What proof do you have?" he asked.

Obi-Wan blinked a few times in surprise. "Proof?" he repeated incredulously. "I did the tests, Master. I have all the proof I need."

"Tests?" Qui-Gon said, now thoroughly confused. "What tests?"

"I have to inform the Council about this," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Qui-Gon's question. "You cannot continue deceiving them in this way."

"This matter does not concern the Council!" Qui-Gon growled. "Why should the Council need to know?"

"Are you serious? Master, you've been telling them the boy is the Chosen One! You're lying to them to save your own skin!"

Now Qui-Gon was totally bewildered. What was Obi-Wan talking about? "Anakin doesn't have anything to do with this," he said. "I didn't lie to you about his conception, if that's what you're getting at." Obi-Wan gaped at him silently for a few moments, indignation and confusion etched across his face.

"Wait – " he began to say.

"Obi-Wan, look," Qui-Gon interrupted as he put his hand on his Padawan's shoulder and led him back toward the hangar. "I apologize for lying to you about this, but you have to believe me that I haven't lied to the Council about Anakin," he said. "Yes, Shmi and I were married, but that doesn't mean that Anakin is my son. You don't know the full story."

"Wait, what?" Obi-Wan said incredulously, tearing himself away from Qui-Gon's grip. "You and Skywalker were _married_?"

Qui-Gon froze. "Uh… you didn't know about that?" he said in a faint voice.

"No!" Obi-Wan said, his mouth hanging open in shock. "I…I just figured you two… I don't know, hooked up one time or something like that."

"Hooked up?" Qui-Gon repeated, aggrieved by the slanderous accusation. "Whatever would make you think that?"

Obi-Wan shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Well… I just kind of assumed that it must have been a mistake and that's why she ran away," he said, unable to make eye contact with Qui-Gon.

"It was a mistake? What is it?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan finally looked at him, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. "The boy," he said. "Anakin."

Qui-Gon scratched the back of his head as he attempted to wrap his head around what was happening. So Obi-Wan hadn't found out about his marriage to Shmi, but Qui-Gon in his stupidity had just revealed that fact to him. Obi-Wan was talking about something else entirely.

"You think Anakin is my son?" Qui-Gon said slowly as the pieces began to come together. Had that been why he had been talking about tests? Paternity tests? But Anakin wasn't his son…

"I know he is," Obi-Wan said. "Did… did you not know that?"

"Anakin is not my son," Qui-Gon insisted. "Shmi told me herself."

"Then how do you explain the fact that your probability of paternity is over ninety-nine percent?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon blinked furiously as he internalized this statement. "It's… what?" he said dumbly.

"I tested Anakin's blood sample with yours in the Jedi Archives," Obi-Wan said, his chin raised defiantly. "You're a perfect match. Anakin is your son."

"No, no, no…" Qui-Gon said as he placed his hand on his forehead. "That's not true. That's impossible…"

"It's the truth, Master," Obi-Wan said.

"But… but Shmi said –"

"She must have lied," Obi-Wan said.

"Shmi is not a liar!" Qui-Gon bellowed defensively. "This doesn't make any sense, how could…" Qui-Gon trailed off as a thought occurred to him. What if… what if she had been pregnant _before _she had gone to Jakku? What if she had been mistaken and Sidious hadn't actually been the one to create Anakin at all?

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

Now that he thought about it, everything made a lot more sense. That explained why she had been so moody in the weeks leading up to her departure for Jakku. It also explained why she had seemingly lost her appetite. He recalled she had been unable to eat her breakfast for nearly a whole week. She had insisted that something had gone wrong with the butter, but he had never figured out what she had been talking about. Now he understood.

"Master, are you… okay?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon looked up at him with a dazed expression. He was a father? He didn't know how to react. On the one hand, he was ecstatic. After all, he had always wanted to have a child. But on the other hand, he was devastated that he had been robbed of ten years with his wife and son. All because of Sidious.

"No, I'm not," he said honestly. "This is… this is a lot to take in."

"So, you didn't lie to the Council?" Obi-Wan asked. "You honestly didn't know that Anakin was your son?"

"Does it look like I knew?" Qui-Gon asked tartly.

"Uh… no, not really," Obi-Wan mumbled.

"You can't tell the Council about this," Qui-Gon said sharply. "You won't tell them now, will you?"

"Uh… I'm not sure," Obi-Wan said, wringing his hands awkwardly.

"I will be expelled from the Order if you do that, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon said in an angry whisper. "You don't want that, do you?"

"No, but Master, you broke the code," he said. "You were married!"

"So?" Qui-Gon said.

"So?" Obi-Wan repeated incredulously. "What do you mean so? This is a big deal!"

"Only if you make it one," Qui-Gon said in a hushed voice. "Obi-Wan, you need to listen to me. I must be allowed to train Anakin. He is imperative to defeating the Sith."

"Is he though?" Obi-Wan asked. "You do realize he can't possibly be the Chosen One anymore?"

Qui-Gon hesitated. Obi-Wan was right. Anakin couldn't be the Chosen One if he was his father. "I didn't think about that," Qui-Gon said as he looked away. But why did Anakin have such a high midichlorian count? He and Shmi were both powerful Force sensitives, sure, but neither of them were _that _powerful. "Even so, Sidious doesn't know that," Qui-Gon said. "He will still try to use Anakin. I need to be able to protect him."

Obi-Wan bit his lower lip and drooped his neck, clearly conflicted about this. "I… I don't know," he said.

"Reality must take precedence over the code, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said forcefully. "You know as well as I do that the Jedi are no closer to defeating Sidious than when they first learned of his existence ten years ago. At the present, our only hope in defeating him is through Anakin. If you inform the Council of my relation to him, you will be destroying our best chance at defeating the Sith. I implore you to see reason!"

Obi-Wan looked back up at him with a stained expression. "I will… have to think about this," he said haltingly.

Determining that this was the best response he was going to get from Obi-Wan at the moment, Qui-Gon decided not to pursue the issue any further. He would need to prove to him during their mission to Naboo that he and Anakin were too important for the Order to give up.

"Very well," Qui-Gon said. "In the meantime, please don't tell Anakin about this."

"Will you tell him?" Obi-Wan asked.

"In time," he said. "But not now. There is too much on the boy's mind right now. I will inform him when the time is right." It pained him to hide the truth from Anakin, but he knew it was the right thing to do. The boy was going through enough as it was.

* * *

_Tatooine_

The sandstorm persisted through the night and Shmi and Dooku were forced to wait until morning before venturing out of the house and into town. The streets were especially quiet that morning, and the crunching of their boots against the sand and gravel sounded unnaturally loud in the normally bustling Mos Espa marketplace.

"Are you sure about this?" Shmi asked once again. "Watto isn't going to be convinced by whatever you say to him. He only cares about one thing."

"Don't worry, my dear," Dooku dismissed. "This should be easy." Shmi pursed her lips but didn't pursue the issue any further. She had been trying to get Dooku to tell her what he was going to do to convince Watto to liberate her, but thus far he had been tight-lipped about it. He knew that credits were no good on a planet like this, but he still seemed confident that this wouldn't be an issue.

"The shop is right over there," Shmi said, pointing to the dingy establishment in the corner of the plaza.

"Very good," Dooku said. "You can wait out here. This won't take long."

"Um… I think that it would be best if –"

"Shmi, don't worry," Dooku interrupted. "I'll be back in a moment."

Shmi opened her mouth to object but Dooku didn't pay her any attention. Ducking slightly under the archway, Dooku disappeared into Watto's shop. Feeling conflicted, Shmi contemplated going after him. It was likely that whatever Dooku was going to do to Watto wouldn't be very pleasant. Didn't she have an obligation to stop him?

That was the old Jedi in her talking. Shmi wasn't a Jedi anymore. She was a realist and a survivor now. Why should she care what Dooku did to Watto? He was a slave master. While he hadn't been horrible to her or Anakin, he hadn't gone out of his way to be particularly kind to them either. He deserved whatever was coming his way. Besides, Shmi needed to get off of Tatooine as soon as possible anyway. It was honestly a blessing that Dooku was offering to do the dirty work for her.

True to his word, Dooku emerged from the shop a few minutes later, a satisfied smirk imprinted on his face. "All done," he said, rubbing his hands together. "He said your chip has been deactivated and we're all set to leave."

"He isn't going to remove it?" she asked. It felt strange to have the transmitter still be in her body. It would feel as if she hadn't truly escaped at all.

"We will deal with that later," Dooku said. "I have the resources to find that chip and remove it at a later date. For now, we must get going."

"And you're sure he can't activate the chip later?" Shmi asked nervously. She wasn't entirely sure what would happen in that case. Would she simply explode? Or would that make Dooku her new owner?

Dooku shook his head confidently. "I assure you, Watto has no power over you anymore," he said. Shmi nodded and glanced at the entrance to Watto's shop once more. It felt strange to be leaving so abruptly. She had been property of the Toydarian for nearly a decade, and just like that she was free. "Shall we get going?" Dooku asked.

"Um… okay," she said in a small voice. She still wasn't convinced that Dooku or his unidentified master were trustworthy, but it didn't look like she had much of a choice in the matter. Besides, there was no one else she could turn to. It had become abundantly clear to her that the Jedi were going to be of no help.

Following Dooku out of the plaza, he led her back through the center of town which was still eerily quiet. After about fifteen minutes of walking in silence, they reached the opposite end of town. "My ship is beyond those dunes," Dooku said, pointing toward the horizon where the desert stretched on as far as the eye could see.

"Are you sure it's safe there?" Shmi asked. "There are a lot of scavengers in the desert."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Dooku said as they began to trudge up a dune. "I have the top of the line security systems installed on all my vessels."

Reassured, Shmi stopped to look behind her. They were high enough now that they could see most of the city. Mos Espa looked far more appealing from afar. From here she couldn't see the dirt or the grime. It was so strange to think that this place had been her home for ten years and she was leaving without hardly a second thought.

"Shmi?"

Spinning back around, she saw Dooku looking at her expectedly from the top of the dune. "Sorry," she said. "I was just… thinking."

The corner of Dooku's mouth twitched in amusement. "I assure you there will be plenty of time for that later," he said. "We shouldn't linger any longer than we already have."

"You're right, sorry," Shmi said as she lifted up the hem of her skirt and continued climbing up the dune. A few minutes later, Dooku's ship came into sight. It was a sleek vessel, similarly designed to the one she had seen Qui-Gon depart on but this one was far more compact. She had never been much of a pilot herself, but it was clear even to her that there was no doubt that this ship was of the highest quality.

As they began descending toward the ship, Dooku stopped abruptly and Shmi nearly ran into him. "What's wrong?" she asked, sidestepping him so she didn't trip.

"Someone is here," he said. "Do you sense it?"

Shmi stopped and attempted to discern what Dooku was talking about. Stretching out into the Force, Shmi's eyes widened as she identified an intensely familiar presence.

"Master," she said.

All of a sudden, Dooku pushed her to the ground as a flash of purple sliced through the air. Landing on her stomach, Shmi flipped over just in time to see her old master Mace Windu crash into Dooku and pin him to the ground.

"Dooku?" he said incredulously, his purple blade humming menacingly by Dooku's exposed throat. "What are you doing here?"

"I would ask you the same thing, my old friend," Dooku said with remarkable calm.

Windu blinked rapidly a few times. Looking up from Dooku, he saw Shmi struggling to her feet. "What is happening here?" he asked her as Shmi brushed the sand off her front. "What are you doing with Dooku?"

Shmi hesitated, unsure what to do. Her hand hovered over her lightsaber cautiously. She couldn't let Windu kill Dooku, but at the same time she knew she couldn't take on her former master by herself. He was the greatest dueler in the Jedi Order, perhaps second only to Yoda himself. She wasn't even sure if Dooku would be able to fight him, despite his own prodigious skills.

"Get off him, Master," she said. "Dooku is not a threat."

Windu made no movement to release Dooku. "What is going on?" he asked again. "Where is the Sith?"

"What do you know about that?" Shmi asked.

"Jinn told the Council what happened," Windu said. "He said he left you behind to fight a Sith."

Shmi pursed her lips and nodded. So Qui-Gon had gone back to Coruscant, after all. Had he taken Anakin with him? Had he defied her wishes and revealed her son to the Council?

"I defeated the Sith," Dooku said. "He was about to kill Shmi when I arrived."

"And why did you arrive in the first place?" Windu asked skeptically. When Dooku hesitated, Windu lowered his blade a fraction toward Dooku's throat. "What are you doing here, Dooku?" he asked with a growl.

"Let him go!" Shmi cried. "Master, you don't understand!"

"Oh, don't I?" Windu asked without looking up at her. "He may have fooled you, but he won't be fooling me. I know it's you who is the true Sith, Dooku."

"I am no such thing," Dooku insisted, his eyes crossed as the purple blade hovered less than inch over his face.

"You are Sidious' apprentice!" Windu shouted. "Don't deny it!"

"Master, you're wrong!" Shmi yelled.

"He's lied to you, Shmi!" Windu said. "He's trying to seduce you to the dark side!"

"No!" Shmi screamed as she held up her hand and sent Windu flying away from Dooku. Jumping to his feet, Dooku produced his red blade just as Shmi activated her blue one. Windu landed hard on his back, but he got back to his feet quickly. Noticing Dooku's red blade, Windu's eyes narrowed and he gripped his blade tighter.

"He's a Sith, Shmi! Get away from him!"

"Master, please listen to me –" Shmi tried to say, but Windu wasn't listening. Running toward them, Windu swung down at Dooku with brutal force. Shmi hesitated for a moment before rushing to Dooku's aide. While she was out of fighting shape, she was nevertheless still intensely familiar with Windu's fighting style. She could foresee his every strike and move. This combined with Dooku's assistance, and soon Windu was being forced back.

"You Jedi think you know everything," Dooku said as all three of their blades were pressed together. "The end of your reign is near, and yet you do nothing to prevent it."

"You will lead me to Sidious," Windu said through gritted teeth. "The Jedi will destroy the Sith once and for all."

"I am not Sidious' apprentice," Dooku said as he twirled his lightsaber away and resumed his assault. Windu's purple blade whirled through the air with dizzying speed as he fought off both Shmi and Dooku's attacks. When Shmi targeted a blow toward Windu's ankles, he leaped in the air and flipped over both of them. Landing elegantly on the other side, he raised his hand and pushed Dooku away.

Spinning around, Shmi barely had time to parry Windu's blade. Now it was her time to be on the defensive, yet she was far less able than Windu had been to stave off an offensive. Windu's blade was moving too fast for her, and soon she felt herself begin to waver just as she had against Maul. Windu's blade nicked her left arm on the way by, searing off the flesh and causing her to yelp in pain. Incensed, Shmi redoubled her efforts and managed to push Windu back for a moment.

"Don't do this, Shmi," Windu growled as he leaned into her lightsaber, his face illuminated by the purple of his blade. "Dooku is lying to you."

"The Jedi failed me, Master," she said. In the distance she saw Dooku finally get to his feet and rush over toward them. "I cannot return with you."

"Yes you can," Windu pleaded. "I can help you, Shmi."

Shmi shook her head. "I'm sorry, Master," she said. Yanking her lightsaber back, Windu fell forward a bit as his momentum carried him. Spinning out of the way, she held up her hand and stopped the unsuspecting Dooku with a Force shield, causing him to crumple to the ground. Returning her attention to Windu, she transferred her lightsaber to her left hand and held up her right as he ran toward her with his lightsaber over his shoulder. Windu collided into the wave of energy she unleashed upon him and was sent flying several feet into the air.

"Come on!" she yelled to Dooku who had gotten to his feet for a second time.

"Shmi, why –"

"Go! Now!" she interrupted. Rushing toward Dooku's ship, she glanced back once to see Windu screaming at her in the distance.

"Shmi! Don't do it! Come back!"

She hesitated for a moment more, one foot planted on the ramp leading up to the hull of Dooku's ship. "Goodbye, Master," she said, too softly for Windu to actually be able to hear her. Turning back around, she scampered up the ramp and into the ship, Dooku following close behind her.

"Dooku, get us out of here!" she yelled as Dooku entered the ship from behind her and closed the ramp with a press of a button. Without a word, he pushed past her and bolted toward the cockpit. Shmi followed him and had only just sat down in the copilot's chair when the ship took off and zoomed out of the atmosphere.

Shmi exhaled loudly, releasing the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Everything had happened so fast. She couldn't believe that she had just fought Windu. She had hardly even given it any thought at the time. It was as if she knew that she _had _to go with Dooku. Something was calling her away from the Jedi and toward this mysterious master whom Dooku served. She intrinsically knew that she was making the best choice for her, for Anakin, and ultimately the galaxy.

Nonetheless, she still couldn't believe she had done something so rash like that. She had fought a member of the Jedi Order! The very organization which ten years prior she had dedicated her life toward. Clearly, everything had changed. She was a fugitive now. There would be no turning back.

"Why did you stop me?" Dooku asked once they had exited the atmosphere and were thrusting out of Tatooine's orbit.

"Sorry?" Shmi asked.

"You stopped me from killing Windu," he said. "You shouldn't have done that."

Shmi frowned at him. "I wasn't going to let you harm him," she said. "He was my master."

"So what?" Dooku said. "Shmi, you have to understand that if the Jedi aren't your allies, that makes them your enemy."

"That's not true at all!" she said indignantly.

"Yes, it is," Dooku countered.

"And what about Qui-Gon?" she asked. "Is he an enemy too?"

"To an extent, yes."

"To an extent? What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if Qui-Gon directly opposes himself to my master's wishes, I will have to treat him as an enemy."

Stunned, Shmi stood up out of the copilot's chair and took a step back. "You don't mean that!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, in fact I do," Dooku said as he spun in his chair to face her. "I warned you, Shmi. The fate of the galaxy hangs by a thread. We are on the precipice of a catastrophe of the highest order! We do not have the luxury to choose who is and who isn't our enemy."

"The Jedi are not our enemies," Shmi said. "At worst, they're bystanders."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Dooku said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You don't appreciate the magnitude of the threat which Sidious presents to the galaxy."

Shmi crossed her arms and looked away. She could appreciate Dooku's insistence that Sidious was a grave threat, but did that mean she had to sacrifice everything in order to defeat him? She certainly hoped not, although it wasn't as if she had much to sacrifice in the first place. All she had was Anakin and Qui-Gon. Would it be too much to ask for them to be safe?

"I understand it sounds harsh," Dooku said in a gentler tone. "In time you will come to understand my point of view, however. My master will explain everything to you."

Biting her lower lip, Shmi looked back up at Dooku's dark eyes. "Alright," she said hoarsely.

"Why don't you go lie down in the main hold," Dooku suggested. "I'll jump the ship into hyperspace in a few minutes. We should be there in a few hours."

"Where is there, exactly?" Shmi asked.

"Serenno," Dooku said. "I thought that would brighten your mood," he added when she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Serenno had been where she had been married. It would always hold a special place in her heart. "You should rest, my dear," Dooku said compassionately. "Let me handle this."

"Alright," she said again in a small voice. With one last look out the window at the dark expanse of space, Shmi turned around and exited the cockpit.

* * *

_Naboo_

A day later, they landed deep in the forests of Naboo in the hope that they wouldn't be detected by the Federation forces. The Queen had decided to attempt to turn the Gungans into an ally. The idea was that the Gungans could provide an army which would serve as a diversion so that the small task force of Nubian handmaidens and guards could storm the capital undetected. It was a risky plan, but Qui-Gon couldn't spare it much thought. His mind was still swimming with the revelation that Anakin was actually his son.

He had suspected it at first when he had first found Shmi in Mos Espa. He remembered wondering to himself why Anakin had blonde hair when Shmi's was brown. Now it was clear that Anakin had inherited his coloring from him, yet at the time he had not allowed himself to get his hopes up and think that Anakin was in fact his son. He had dismissed his suspicions for good once Shmi had told him about what Sidious had done to her and hadn't given the issue any more thought.

That was why it had been so thoroughly stupefying to have Obi-Wan abruptly inform him that he was in fact Anakin's father. He didn't know how to act around the boy anymore. He knew it was a bad idea to reveal himself to him right now, but what was he supposed to do in the meantime? Just pretend as if everything was normal? He couldn't possibly do that!

Qui-Gon was staring blankly at the green marshlands in front of him, contemplating this oppressive question, when Obi-Wan approached. He was simultaneously relieved to be distracted and put on edge by Obi-Wan's presence. He and his Padawan hadn't said a word to each other during the trip from Coruscant. Qui-Gon had thought it best to allow Obi-Wan to stew on his own for a bit. He knew that his Padawan felt betrayed that he had lied – or at least withheld the truth – from him for so long. On top of this, he suspected that Obi-Wan might be feeling a bit jealous of Anakin. All his life, he had considered Qui-Gon as a father figure, and all of a sudden that perception was complicated by Anakin's abrupt entry into his life.

"Jar Jar is on his way to the Gungan city, Master," Obi-Wan informed him stiffly.

Qui-Gon nodded absently and didn't look at Obi-Wan. "Good," he said. It seemed as if Obi-Wan was going to say something else when suddenly his holoprojector vibrated in his pocket. Bemused as to who could be trying to contact him at this time, Qui-Gon reached into his robes and produced the device.

"Follow me," he ordered to Obi-Wan. Walking a few feet away, Qui-Gon set the holoprojector down on a tree stump and activated the device. The hologram of Master Windu appeared before him, his blue-tinged figure somewhat distorted and out of focus. "Master Windu," Qui-Gon said with a bow. "Why are you contacting me? Obi-Wan and I are –"

"_The Council demands that you return to the Temple as soon as possible,_" Windu interrupted tersely. He somehow sounded even more irritable than usual, and Qui-Gon swallowed hard in fright. If there was anyone on the Council who could intimidate him, it was Windu.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Qui-Gon said. "I don't have a way to get back. Besides, I must protect the Queen."

"_Your Padawan can assume your responsibilities, Master Jinn,_" Windu said. "_This is a matter of utmost importance. You must return to Coruscant."_

Qui-Gon blinked a few times and looked behind him where he saw Padmé watching him with a curious expression. "Does this have something to do with Shmi?" Qui-Gon asked when he turned his head back around to Windu's hologram.

"_Yes_," Windu said vaguely. "_I expect you to be back on Coruscant within the day. Windu out._" With that, Windu's hologram flickered out, leaving a bewildered Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in his wake.

"What do you think that was about?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said as he leaned down to pick up his holoprojector from the tree stump. "I suspect he was unsuccessful in bringing Shmi back to the Temple, however." Pocketing the device, Qui-Gon turned around to see Padmé striding over toward him, her arms swinging powerfully at her sides. "Just great," Qui-Gon muttered to himself as she approached.

"Who was that, Master Jinn?" she asked.

"That was my colleague, Master Windu," Qui-Gon told her. "He ordered that I return to Coruscant as soon as I am able."

"Return?" Padmé repeated incredulously. "You can't return! We need your assistance!"

"That is what I told him," Qui-Gon said. "He said it was of the utmost importance, however."

"The Queen's protection should be of the utmost importance to you! Not this!" Padmé insisted, stomping her feet on the mossy ground petulantly.

"I assure you, Obi-Wan will be a sufficient help to you," Qui-Gon said.

"You think a Padawan will be able to protect the Queen? Seriously?"

"Hey!" Obi-Wan protested, but Qui-Gon cut him off.

"Obi-Wan is more than capable," Qui-Gon said. "And if this changes anything, I believe this matter has to do with Shmi Skywalker."

"Anakin's mom?" Padmé said. "You mean to say she lived?"

"Oh yes," Qui-Gon said confidently. "She most certainly lived."

"How do you know that, Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon turned to his Padawan and gave him a pointed look. "I just do," he said.

"Oh," Obi-Wan said, catching his drift. "I see."

"Well I don't!" Padmé said irritably. "I don't see why you have to leave now! We need you!"

"Nor do I, but I have my orders," Qui-Gon said. "You should remember that I serve the Council, not you." Padmé crossed her arms and clenched her jaw in frustration. "Shmi was crucial in enabling us to escape Tatooine," Qui-Gon reminded the incognito queen. "It is only fair to her that you allow me to return and assist her in whatever way I can."

"Why do her needs take precedence over the Queen's in this instance?" Padmé asked.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said. "But the Council seems to think as such. I am in no position to question the will of the Council." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi-Wan smirk at this claim. He knew as well as anyone that Qui-Gon was more than willing to defy the Council, and in fact he made a hobby out of it. Not in this case, however. In this case, he knew he had to return to Coruscant as soon as possible for Shmi's sake. It just so happened that the Council's will overlapped with his own for once.

"Very well," Padmé conceded reluctantly. "But you can't leave now. Once we infiltrate Theed, you will be able to take a fighter from the hangar."

"I assume those fighters are equipped with a hyperdrive?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes, they are," Padmé said.

"Wait just a minute," Obi-Wan said, holding his hand up. "Shouldn't you be consulting the Queen on this?" When Padmé rolled her eyes and spun away, Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon with a bewildered expression. "What? Am I wrong?" he asked.

Qui-Gon smirked and patted his Padawan on the back reassuringly. "You still have much to learn, my young apprentice," he said. "Much to learn."

* * *

_Hyperspace en-route to Serenno_

Shmi woke up with a start when she felt something on her arm. Rolling over quickly, she saw a bulky silver droid looming over her. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "Get away!"

"Please ma'am," the droid said exasperatedly. "I am attempting to dress your wound."

Shmi relaxed as her instinctive reflexes faded away. Mumbling her apologies to the medical droid, Shmi propped herself up on the leather couch and held her arm still for the droid. The droid diligently resumed its work, lathering the singed flesh on her left arm with an ointment before wrapping it in a gauze bandage.

Shmi blinked and flexed her jaw as she acclimated herself to her surroundings. She had fallen asleep in the main hold of Dooku's ship. They were probably in hyperspace by now on their way to Serenno.

"What's your name?" she asked the droid conversationally. She had always felt more comfortable conversing with droids than with people. Droids never judged you nor had ulterior motives like live people did. She had actually been quite excited to see how Anakin's protocol droid was going to turn out, even though she had never understood what need they would have of a protocol droid. It was too bad that C-3P0 would probably never be completed, however, now that both she and Anakin had abandoned him on Tatooine.

"I am TM-5," the droid informed her flatly. "I am a 2-1B class surgical droid."

Shmi bobbed her head and watched as TM-5 finished applying her bandages. "I'm Shmi," she said. The droid said nothing, electing instead to focus on its work. "Hey, TM," she said. The droid looked up from her arm, his bright yellow eyes staring intently at her. "Um… is Dooku your master?" she asked.

The droid nodded, his neck squeaking a bit as he did so. "Yes," TM said simply.

"Do you happen to know anything about Dooku's master?" she asked.

The droid's countenance remained the same, but she could tell based on how long it was taking him to respond that she had confused him. "I am sorry," he said eventually. "That does not compute. Master Dooku is my master."

"Yes, I know, but –"

"You're not going to get any information out of TM." Swiveling her head around, Shmi saw that Dooku had walked into the main hold, an amused expression on his face. "You are quite persistent, aren't you?" he said.

"I would like to know who I am being brought to," she said stiffly.

"All in good time," Dooku said as he sat down on a chair opposite her. "We should be in Serenno within the hour."

TM applied an adhesive to the gauze and stepped away from her. "Thank you," she said to the droid's back as it lumbered away to give them some privacy. Shmi held up her arm and investigated her bandage with detached interest while Dooku watched her with a faint smile.

"I'm so glad to have finally found you," he said. "Do you know that Qui-Gon has been searching for you nonstop ever since you disappeared?"

Shmi shook her head morosely and lowered her arm. "I don't deserve him," she said. "I've hurt him so much."

Dooku shook his head and placed his hand on the couch. "It's not your fault that this happened to you," he said. "It's Sidious' fault and it's the Order's fault. You are the victim here."

Shmi shrugged and looked away. She could blame Sidious or the Jedi all she wanted, but deep down she knew that Qui-Gon deserved better than her. She couldn't be the woman he wanted her be. She couldn't then and she couldn't now. He would have been so much better off if he had never fallen in love with her…

"How is your son?" Dooku asked, rousing her from her rumination.

"Anakin?" she said, somewhat surprised by the inquiry. "He's a wonderful boy, truly. You would love him if you ever get to meet him."

Dooku grinned and retracted his hand. "I'd consider him as my grandson," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Shmi's own smile faded as she thought about her son. She hoped he was doing well wherever he was. He had never been separated from her for this long. "Will I ever get to see him again?" she asked. "Or is my son to be considered an enemy too know that he is with the Jedi?"

Dooku pursed his lips and clasped his hands together on his lap. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But even if you are reunited with him, he will never be safe. Sidious will not stop until he has your son."

"Why?" Shmi asked as she held her hands to her temples. "Why me? Why did he have to choose me?"

"I don't know," Dooku said once again. "But my master will tell you everything. Soon you will understand."

* * *

_Serenno_

An hour later, Dooku's ship landed on the launching pad outside his majestic palace on Serenno. By now Shmi was beginning to tremble with excitement and anticipation. Her ambivalence about Dooku's master had faded in the face of her burning curiosity. Moreover, she could feel as if she was in the right place. She somehow knew instinctively that this was where she was meant to be. It felt as if she was returning to a home she had never known.

Dooku led her off the ship and into the palace. They made their way down a wide, red carpeted hallway. Jet black Doric columns supported the high ceiling on either side of them. At the end of the grandiose hallway was an elevator which opened when they approached. When they stepped into the elevator, Dooku entered a special code onto a screen on the wall. The doors closed swiftly and they were suddenly plummeting downward with surprising speed. Surprised, Shmi barely had enough time to grasp the handrail on the side of the elevator when their descent slowed and the doors opened.

"Follow me," Dooku said as he stepped out of the elevator. Shmi gulped nervously and followed Dooku into a vast, dark room. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they persisted deeper into the shadows. Shmi began to shiver as they continued onward, an ominous darkness piercing deep beneath her skin and into her heart. She suddenly felt fear mixing in with her excitement.

Dooku stopped abruptly and Shmi was forced to sidestep him so she didn't run into him. Dooku got down on one knee and genuflected before the darkness. Confused, Shmi looked up but she didn't see who Dooku was bowing to.

_Koo… chh._

_Koo… chh._

_Koo… chh._

What was that sound? Shmi fidgeted nervously as she continued to stare blindly ahead. All of a sudden, a stentorian voice pierced the oppressive silence. "You have done well, my apprentice," the voice said. "Very well. I am grateful for your competence, Dooku."

"Thank you, Master," Dooku said, his head still bowed in reverence. "Although I failed to kill the apprentice."

"Do not worry, my friend," the voice said. "Maul will not return to his master now that he failed to retrieve the boy. Your identify will not be revealed to Sidious."

"I hope not, Master," Dooku said.

"Rise, my apprentice," the voice said. Dooku raised his head and stood up obediently. "You may now leave us."

"Yes, Master," Dooku said.

"Wait!" Shmi exclaimed in a high voice. "You're leaving?"

"You have nothing to fear from me, Skywalker," the voice said. "Dooku will return after we are finished."

"Finished with what?" Shmi asked.

"When I have finished explaining," the voice said vaguely. Shmi swallowed hard and tapped her foot nervously as Dooku slipped away silently, leaving her alone with the mysterious master.

_Koo… chh._

_Koo… chh._

_Koo… chh._

"What is that sound?" Shmi asked impulsively after a few moments.

"This is how I survive," the voice said bitterly. "After it happened."

"After what happened?" Shmi asked.

"After he tried to kill me."

Bemused, Shmi said nothing to this. "Who are you?" she asked instead. "And why can't I see your face?"

Shmi yelped in shock when she heard a loud bang. The chamber was abruptly flooded with light, blinding her with intensity. Stumbling backward, Shmi held her hand to her eyes and squinted mightily as she acclimated herself to the luminous room. Blinking a few times, Shmi lowered her hand as she saw whom it was she was speaking to.

"Who are you?" she asked again.

"Shmi, I am your father," the master said.


	7. The Truth

_Serenno_

Shmi's mouth hung ajar as she stared at the decrepit man seated in front of her. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the breathing apparatus which covered his nose and mouth. A tube protruded outward from the apparatus and connected with a black box which was strapped onto the man's chest.

"You're… my father?" Shmi said skeptically. This didn't make any sense to her because the man in front of her was clearly not a human. His grey skull was elongated and thinner than a normal human's would be. He was also far taller than an average man, and Shmi estimated that if he was standing he would have been over seven feet tall.

"Not in the conventional sense, no," the master said, his long, spindly fingers curling around the armrests as he attempted to stand upright. It seemed to be an extremely difficult undertaking for the enfeebled man, wincing slightly as he rose to his feet. "But I am responsible for your creation."

"What does that mean?" Shmi asked as she took a step back out of the lanky master's shadow.

"You were my first experiment and also my most cherished accomplishment," he said. He paused for a moment to take a deep breath through the respirator before taking another step toward her. As he did so, Shmi took another step back as if they were performing a bizarre synchronized dance. "Come closer, my child," he said.

Shmi shook her head, her eyes wide with fear as he took another laborious step. "Who are you really?" she asked. "Are you a Sith?"

"Sith," he repeated with a vicious hiss. "I have long since abandoned such constricting classifications. I am neither Sith nor Jedi. Neither light nor dark. I simply… am."

"But… what are you?" she asked, thoroughly unsatisfied by this explanation.

"Come closer, I said," he commanded, ignoring her question. When Shmi shook her head again, the master growled angrily and held up his hand. Shmi felt her whole body freeze and she was suddenly elevated off the ground an inch. Her toes dragged and skidded against the ground as she was pulled closer toward the master. "Good," he purred.

"Let me go!" Shmi managed to say through gritted teeth.

"I am your creator," the master said as he extended his freakishly large hand toward her face. "I may do what I please with you." Shmi squirmed against her invisible restraints as the man ran a finger up her cheek in an almost tender manner. Caught off guard by the gentleness of his touch, Shmi relaxed a fraction as he pushed the hair out of her face and around her ear.

"Let me go," she said again, but with less vehemence this time.

"Very well," the master conceded. Shmi dropped down to the ground easily and she instantly took a step back once she had regained her footing.

"Tell me your name," she said with authority, the fear-induced tremor now gone from her voice. Her terror of the man had ebbed away, superseded by an overwhelming curiosity.

The man turned his back to her and walked back to his chair, his breathing elevated as he struggled with each step. Finally he collapsed down onto his chair and slouched a bit, his overgrown yellow finger-nails digging into the leather armrests. "My… name," he said slowly, his voice still sounding loud in spite of his exhaustion. "I haven't gone by my true name in over ten years."

"Why not?" she asked.

Once again, he ignored her. "And you have not gone by your true name ever," he said.

"My true name?" she repeated. "What do you mean? My name is Shmi Skywalker. It always has been."

The master shook his head lazily and straightened his back against the back of the chair. "It was the name your adoptive parents gave you," he said. "But it wasn't the name I chose for you."

Shmi blinked a few in surprise. Skywalker wasn't her real name? Who was he to say? That was the name she had chosen for herself! He didn't get to dictate if it was really hers or not. Nonetheless, Shmi found herself desperately curious to know what he would have called her. "What did you name me?" she asked, her throat dry with anticipation and excitement.

The master didn't speak for a moment as he contemplated her eager expression. "I would have called you Elegius," he said eventually. "At the time, you would have assumed the proper Sith title as well."

"Darth Elegius?" she said, the unfamiliar name feeling caustic in her mouth.

"Indeed," the master said with a hint of weariness.

"And what about you?" she asked. "What was your name?"

The master was silent for nearly a whole minute, his pale yellow eyes oscillating back and forth as he scrutinized her with disturbing intensity. Yet she didn't feel uncomfortable in his presence. On the contrary, she felt inexplicably at ease. She felt as if the weight of the galaxy had been lifted off of her shoulders. Somehow, she knew that she was finally safe now that this man – her father – was here to protect her.

"You may call me… Plagueis," he said finally.

* * *

_Coruscant_

Jumping out of the sleek yellow Nubian fighter onto the landing pad, Qui-Gon was immediately greeted by Master Windu who strode over toward him with intimidating speed.

"Good. You're here," he said curtly. "Follow me, Jinn."

Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment before walking after Windu's rapidly retreating form. Having convinced the Gungans to form a tenuous alliance with the Naboo, Qui-Gon had joined Amidala's small task force into Theed. Having disposed of the limited defenses in the city, Qui-Gon had been able to commandeer a small fighter from the hangar. He had ordered Anakin to hide in the cockpit of another fighter, but nonetheless Qui-Gon had spent the entire journey back to Coruscant worrying about the boy – about his son. He had left him in the middle of a battle! What would Shmi say if she learned about that?

Qui-Gon followed Windu into the elevator which led them up toward the Council room. Windu didn't say a word to him as they exited the elevator and marched down the red-carpeted hallway. The doors swung open before Windu, and he speedily walked toward his seat at the head of the Council. All the other masters were already there, physically or otherwise by hologram. Qui-Gon gulped nervously as he assumed his spot in the middle of the circular room.

"I apologize for the hastiness of this meeting, but recent developments have rendered this session too important to wait," Windu began, his eyes trailing around the room at every master before he finally settled on Qui-Gon's face. Slightly uncomfortable under Windu's gaze, Qui-Gon shifted his feet nervously underneath his robes. "When I arrived on Tatooine, I was encountered with an unexpected surprise," he said. "I found Skywalker, accompanied by a man we haven't seen in well over fifteen years. Would you happen to know anything about this, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon raised his brow in confusion. "I don't understand," he said. "Why should I know anything about this man? Who is he?"

"Your old master," Windu said. "Count Dooku." Qui-Gon's mouth fell open in shock. Dooku had been on Tatooine? But why? Had he somehow leaned about Shmi's whereabouts? The timing seemed remarkable to say the least. And what had happened to Sidious' apprentice? "Would you happen to know why Dooku would have been on Tatooine, Master Jinn?" Windu asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Qui-Gon said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Windu's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Perhaps you could explain to the Council why Dooku was wielding the red blade of the Sith?"

"Dooku had a red lightsaber?" Qui-Gon asked in shock.

"I take it this is news to you as well?"

"Of course it is! How could I have known?"

"Because it is abundantly clear to this Council that you are withholding information from us, Master Jinn," Windu said icily. "Have you or have you not been in communication with Dooku at any time over the past fifteen years?"

Qui-Gon swallowed hard in fear. "Um… yes, yes I have," he said faintly.

"Why did you not inform the Council of this?" Windu asked.

"I had no reason to do so," Qui-Gon said defiantly. "Dooku has no quarrel with the Jedi."

"Is that so?" Windu asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm and acrimony. "Then please explain to the Council why he and Shmi Skywalker attacked me on Tatooine?" Qui-Gon was rendered speechless, too stunned to respond. Dooku had attacked Windu? And Shmi had helped him? What in the name of the Force was going on? "Master Jinn, I would appreciate some honesty out of you for once," Windu said with a nasty snarl. "Were you aware that Dooku had become a Sith Lord?"

"No!" Qui-Gon said at once.

"Did you know that Skywalker had been hiding on Tatooine for the past ten years?"

"No!" Qui-Gon said again. "I only found her a few days ago."

"Were you aware of any connection between Dooku and Skywalker?"

Qui-Gon faltered at this question. The truthful answer was yes, but not in the sense Windu was getting at. "Shmi did not know that Dooku was a Sith Lord, if that is what you are wondering," Qui-Gon said, sidestepping the question.

"And you know this how?" Windu asked skeptically.

"She told me as such," Qui-Gon said. "She said she didn't know who Sidious was or who his apprentice was."

Windu frowned and leaned back in his seat, scratching his chin pensively. "Do you think that Dooku is Sidious?" Master Ti asked Windu from across the room.

"It is entirely possible," Windu said. "Dooku denied having any knowledge of Sidious."

"Dooku isn't Sidious," Qui-Gon said. "That's impossible."

"Why is that?" Windu asked.

"He… he couldn't be!" Qui-Gon still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that Dooku was a Sith. He had just seen him a week ago! Surely he would have known! Surely he would have sensed something!

"I'm afraid that is not conclusive evidence," Windu said coldly. "Until proven otherwise, we must consider Dooku and Sidious as one and the same."

"What about Shmi?" Qui-Gon asked impulsively. "Did he take her with him?"

"She went with him willingly," Windu said bitterly. "She sided with him over me."

Qui-Gon blinked rapidly as he tried to figure out what had happened. Had Dooku gone to Tatooine to find Anakin? If that was the case, why hadn't he simply killed Shmi? And why had Shmi sided with him over Windu if Dooku was Sidious' apprentice? Was it possibly she didn't know the truth? Or could it be that Dooku wasn't Sidious' apprentice at all? What if he was an outside player in all this? But why would he be wielding a red lightsaber if that was the case?

"We need to find Dooku as soon as possible," Windu said. "Do you know where to find him?"

Qui-Gon inhaled sharply as he considered his options. He kept his mental shields up high as he deliberated, not wanting Windu or the others on the Council to be able to sense his internal dilemma. He suspected that Dooku would have gone back to Serenno. He had no evidence to the contrary. If he told the Jedi where to find Dooku, what would happen? They would send a massive task force to destroy him and perhaps Shmi with him. He couldn't allow that to happen. Besides, he knew there must be more to this story. He couldn't believe that Dooku was a Sith. It simply didn't make any sense to him. There must have been a reason why Shmi had sided with him over her former master Windu. Qui-Gon wanted to be the one to figure out why that was. He had to prevaricate to the Council so that he could uncover this mystery.

"I am afraid not," he lied effortlessly.

"We should check on his home world of Serenno," Master Koon suggested causing Qui-Gon's eyes to widen.

"I don't believe that would be a wise idea," Qui-Gon said, thinking fast. "Dooku had many residences across the galaxy. I doubt he would have returned to the place where the Jedi would most suspect. Nor would it be likely for him to return to any of his documented residences, now that I think about it. Dooku is far too smart to do that."

"I concur," Master Mundi said, his voice sounding a bit garbled as his hologram flickered in and out. "If Dooku is indeed a Sith, would it not be more prudent to investigate the Sith worlds first? Malachor and Moraband come to mind."

"It would be foolish not to check Serenno as well, however," Windu said.

"But what good is sending a small force to look for Dooku?" Qui-Gon asked innocently. "If he is indeed a Sith Lord, we will need to send as many Jedi as we can on each reconnaissance mission."

"Correct, Master Jinn is," Master Yaddle said supportively. "Too dangerous, Dooku is to take on alone. Proven that, you have Master Windu."

Windu frowned but he didn't object with Yaddle. "What would you propose instead, Master Jinn?" he asked.

"Send a task force of whatever Jedi you have available to Malachor," Qui-Gon said, trying desperately to keep his voice steady and convincing. "If Dooku is not there, proceed onward to Moraband or wherever else you deem it most likely Dooku could be hiding."

Windu placed his fist under his chin as he considered this proposition. "I assume you would like to be a member of this task force?" he asked.

Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment. He absolutely did not want to be on this task force, but he couldn't let Windu know that otherwise that would arouse suspicion. It was far safer to request that he indeed be put on the task force because Windu was more likely to refuse him out of spite. "Yes," he said therefore. "I believe I can be useful in finding Dooku."

Windu nodded his head slowly. "Perhaps you can," he said. Qui-Gon felt his heart drop. Was Windu actually going to put him on the task force? Wouldn't it be cruelly ironic for Windu to be nice to him the first time in his life when Qui-Gon didn't actually want it? "But then again, you have already demonstrated that your judgement with regards to Dooku is compromised."

Qui-Gon felt his spirits soar at the accusation. "Compromised?" he repeated, attempting to convey indignation rather than the relief he was truly experiencing. "How so?"

"How so? You have had the audacity to suggest that Dooku is in fact not a Sith despite my personal testimony. I can only assume that you still harbor a lingering attachment to your former master in spite of the code's provision on such things. You are unable to see objectively on this subject."

Qui-Gon lowered his head, supposedly in shame, but in reality he was really trying to hide his smirk. His ploy had worked to perfection. Windu was so easy to manipulate!

The one person on the Council who Qui-Gon was concerned about, however, was Master Yoda. The ancient Grand Master had not said a word for the entire session to this point. Instead the diminutive green man had been staring at the ground in front of him with a pained expression the entire time. Was it possible he was feeling guilty? Dooku had been his apprentice, after all. Either way, Qui-Gon was relieved that Yoda hadn't chosen to scrutinize him like Windu had. He had no doubt that the ever-perspicacious Yoda would have been able to see through his deception with ease had he been paying attention.

"It's settled then," Windu said. "I will lead a task force to Malachor which will leave tomorrow morning. Master Jinn, I suggest you return to Naboo now. The Queen will surely still require your assistance."

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon said with a bow. He had no intention of returning to Naboo right away, however. Qui-Gon was on his way to Serenno to unravel this mystery. What were Shmi and Dooku up to?

* * *

_Serenno_

"I don't understand," Shmi said. "How come I've never met you before?"

"I was a fool," Plagueis said heavily as he rubbed the top of his domed head with his right hand. "I was indoctrinated in the ways of the Sith. I saw power as being manifested solely in raw, physical expressions. When you were born, I was convinced I had failed somehow. You were powerful, yes, but nothing extraordinary. I aspired to create the most powerful Force sensitive in the history of the galaxy."

"And so you abandoned me?" Shmi said incredulously.

Plagueis sighed and drooped his head in shame. "I am not the person I once was," he said. "I understand the errors in my previous ways. You must believe me, my child. I know now that I was a fool and a monster."

Shmi hesitated, the genuineness of his demeanor once again catching her off guard. How was it that this former Sith was able to convey more remorse and sincerity than the entire Jedi Council had ever done? Weren't Sith supposed to be evil? Wasn't the dark side supposed the be an irrevocably corruptive influence?

"If I was a monster, Sidious was ten times the monster I ever was," Plagueis continued. "In my naïveté, I taught him everything I knew. I never thought he would have turned against me. I never would have thought he would have tried to perfect the technique which I had thought failed."

"What do you mean?" Shmi asked, struggling to follow this statement.

"I taught him the secret of the creation of life," Plagueis said. "It was with my training that he forced you to bear his own creation."

Shmi took a step back, repulsed by this admission. "You did that?" she asked.

"I did not condone his actions," Plagueis said firmly. "I had no idea he would try such a thing. Believe me, I was horrified when I found out what he had done to you."

"But you didn't stop him," Shmi said, her arms crossed in front of her.

"I confronted him," Plagueis said. "And that is when he attacked me. I was strong, much stronger than I am now, but Sidious was stronger. He defeated me and left me for dead. My hatred enabled me to survive, unbeknownst to him. For years, I drifted and lingered until Dooku found me. Now, I am slowly regaining my strength with his magnanimous assistance."

"Do you intend to confront him again?" Shmi asked optimistically.

"Me? No, my child," Plagueis said with a faint chuckle which soon devolved into a cough. "I will never be strong enough to face him," he said hoarsely once the coughing fit had subsided. "Sidious' powers in the ways of the dark side are immense."

"But Dooku said you wanted to defeat him," Shmi said. "Do you intend to use me?" When Plagueis nodded, Shmi shook her head vigorously. "That's absurd!" she exclaimed. "I don't stand a chance against Sidious."

"Oh, but you do, my child," Plagueis said. "For you must understand that I was wrong about you. When you were born, you were indistinct from a common Jedi youngling. Had I placed my faith in you, however, I would have discovered that your powers were not static. Your control over the Force has increased, slowly at first, but now at an exponential rate. The midichlorians which I manipulated to create you must have been mutated or altered in some way. They duplicate and compound whereas no other midichlorian has been shown to reproduce in this way."

"What are you saying?" Shmi asked.

"I am saying that I did not fail at all," Plagueis said. "I succeeded in creating the most powerful Force sensitive in the history of the galaxy, but I wasn't patient enough to see it."

"Me?" she said incredulously. "No, that can't be…"

"The Jedi have taught you to doubt yourself," Plagueis said with a growl. "They didn't understand the extent of your powers, much like I did not. Yet with my training, you will finally realize your potential! You will ascend to a power never before seen or even comprehended!"

"No, no, that can't be possible," she said as she shook her head. "You must be mistaken."

Plagueis frowned and clenched his left hand into a fist in frustration. "You are crippled by self-doubt and petty insecurities," he rumbled. "Let go of your doubts. Embrace my teaching, and together we can defeat Sidious and restore order to the galaxy."

Shmi faltered as she realized what Plagueis was proposing. "You want me to embrace the dark side, don't you?" she asked. When Plagueis said nothing, Shmi furrowed her brow angrily and held up a finger. "There is no way that's happening!" she said vehemently. "I don't want anything to do with that. Not after… not after…" She trailed off, her skin feeling cold and clammy at the very thought of what Sidious had done to her.

Plagueis contemplated her silently for a moment. "Darkness… light… passion… purity. These are all but words. You must discard of your simplistic interpretations of these nebulous concepts."

"No," Shmi said, her finger still raised. "I don't care what you say. I have felt the dark side. There is nothing you can tell me that could make me change my mind."

Plagueis looked as if was going to be angry for a second, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his respirator. "Very well," he said eventually, much to her surprise. "Then allow me to show you."

"Show me? What are you talking about?" Shmi asked.

"You say there is nothing I can say to convince you," Plagueis said. "Then allow me to show you."

"I don't think you understand what I –"

"No, you are the one who does not understand," Plagueis snapped, causing Shmi to flinch. "You do not appreciate the severity of the threat Sidious poses to the galaxy.

"I understand plenty," Shmi said. "I know what he's capable of."

"No, you do not," Plagueis said. "Let me show you what will happen to the galaxy should Sidious' ambitions be realized. Let me show you what will happen to your son."

Shmi paused at that. "To my son?" she repeated. "What do you mean? What happens to Anakin?"

"Let me show you," Plagueis said again. When Shmi hesitated, Plagueis sighed and flicked his wrist, lifting her into the air once again. She was propelled toward him, but she didn't resist like last time. Once she was within arm's reach, Plagueis extended a finger and pressed it against her forehead.

The moment his finger made contact, the chamber and Plagueis both disappeared. Falling back down to the ground, Shmi felt a crunching sound when her feet made contact with an ashen surface. Looking around, she saw that she was on a molten planet. Acrid fumes in the air forced her to breathe through her mouth as she spun around. Standing below her on the black hill was a man wielding a blue lightsaber. Below him was another man with a blue lightsaber of his own standing on a scrap of metal which was floating in a stream of lava.

"_It's over, Anakin!_" she heard the man on the hill say. "_I have the high ground!_"

Shmi gasped in shock. That man was her son! "Anakin!" she cried out, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"_You underestimate my powers,_" Anakin said to the other Jedi.

"_Don't try it,_" he warned.

"Anakin!" she yelled again. She knew this wasn't going to go well. She had to stop him…

Anakin bent his knees and leapt high into the air off the platform toward the Jedi. As he attempted to twist in midair, the Jedi sliced upward.

"No!" Shmi shrieked, but there was nothing she could do. Anakin fell to the ground with a heavy thud and slid down the hill toward the molten river. Shmi shut her eyes tight, but the horrific image was still imprinted on her retinas. The Jedi had cut off both of Anakin's legs as well as his left arm. Forcing her eyes open, she watched as Anakin roared in pain as he desperately tried to crawl back up the hill with his remaining limb. Tears flowed down her cheeks and evaporated in the oppressive heat at the pitiful sight. She turned around and retched, the smell of burning flesh bombarding her nostrils.

The Jedi deactivated his lightsaber and reattached it to his belt as he stared down at Anakin's mutilated form. "_You were the Chosen One!_" he screamed, his voice thick with emotion. "_It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!_" The Jedi lowered his head and took a step up the hill toward her. Reaching down, he picked up Anakin's lightsaber and looked back down at Anakin one last time.

"_I hate you!_" Anakin bellowed, his voice full of vitriol and nothing like the sweet voice of the boy she knew.

"_You were my brother, Anakin,_" the Jedi said. "_I loved you._"

The Jedi looked away quickly when the stump of Anakin's leg was suddenly ignited in flames. Anakin shrieked as the flames quickly migrated upward and engulfed his whole body. "No!" Shmi cried as she ran past the Jedi and skidded down the hill. Falling to her knees, Shmi could only watch as her son was consumed by flames. "No! No!" she wailed as she desperately tried to pull him up the hill, but her hands merely passed through him when she tried to grab his shoulders.

The scene abruptly shifted, and the searing heat vanished along with it. She was terribly cold all of a sudden, and not just physically. She felt a deep, penetrating cold comparable to the one she had experienced on Jakku…

A whooshing sound caused Shmi to spin around in surprise. Only now did she take in her surroundings. She was in an austere square room. It was more like a cell, actually. In front of her, the door to the cell had opened, revealing a tall man in a dark suit and mask flanked by two soldiers wearing matching black uniforms and helmets. Oblivious to her presence, the man marched passed her into the cell. Turning around to follow him, she saw that a young woman in a white dress was seated on a bench along the back wall of the cell. Shmi narrowed her eyes a bit as she scrutinized the young woman's face. There was something incredibly familiar about her, but Shmi couldn't identify what it was. She looked just like someone she knew…

When the man in the mask approached her, the woman stiffened in fear and pressed her back against the wall. Shmi knew at once that this woman – girl more like – was in terrible danger from this man. She had to protect her! She had to stop this.

"_And now, your highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel Base,_" the man said in a deep voice which was no doubt altered by his mask. An ominous, robotic sound caused Shmi to look back toward the door to see that a spherical droid had entered the cell, a menacing-looking needle protruding from its left side. In spite of her cool demeanor, Shmi could sense the girl's fear radiating intensely through the Force.

"Don't hurt her!" Shmi pleaded as she tried in vain to drag the masked man away. With a clang, the door to the cell shut from behind her and the scene disappeared once more.

The sound of another door opening caused Shmi to swivel her head once again. This time she saw that she was on some sort of bridge overlooking a heavily forested planet. The masked man whom she had seen earlier strode out through the opened door and marched down the bridge purposefully. As Shmi turned to follow him, another door at the opposite end of the bridge opened, revealing an officer dressed in a grey uniform. From behind the officer, a calm young man dressed in black stepped forward onto the bridge, his hands bound in front of him. Shmi caught her breath when she saw how similar this young man looked to the version of Anakin she had just seen, although he was considerably shorter.

"_This is the rebel that surrendered to us_," the uniformed officer informed the masked man. "_Although he denies it, I believe there may be more of them. I request permission to conduct a further search of the area._" All the while, the young man was staring unblinkingly back at the masked man. Shmi could tell that the man felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny, in spite of his masked visage. "_He was armed only with this,_" the officer concluded. As Shmi returned her attention to him, she saw him deposit a lightsaber in the masked man's outstretched hand. So this young man was a Jedi as well?

"_Good work, Commander,_" the masked man said. "_Leave us. Conduct your search and bring his companions to me._"

"_Yes, my lord,_" the officer said dutifully before turning to leave. As the door closed behind him, the younger man fell in step with the masked man and the pair began walking slowly down the bridge.

"_The Emperor has been expecting you,_" the masked man said.

"_I know, Father._"

Shmi's eyes widened. These two men were father and son? Then why were they meeting under such grim circumstances?

The masked man glanced at his son curiously. "_So, you have accepted the truth,_" he said with a hint of triumph.

"_I have accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father._"

Shmi inhaled sharply in shock. This was Anakin? Her Anakin? This was what had happened to her son? "_That name no longer has any meaning to me,_" Anakin said as he turned to his own son and shook the hilt of his lightsaber at him.

"_It is the name of your true self, you've only just forgotten,_" the young man – her grandson – said passionately. Shmi tuned the conversation out as she stared at the cloaked back of her son. So this was his fate? He would be forced to live his life in this horrible suit? Destined to serve as an instiller of fear and discipline?

The familiar sound of a lightsaber being ignited shocked Shmi out of her ruminations and caused her to look up quickly. Anakin was holding a green lightsaber – very much like Qui-Gon's – in his hands as his son stood a few feet away with his back toward him. What was he doing? Surely he wouldn't attack his own son!

"_I see you have constructed a new lightsaber,_" Anakin said as he turned the humming hilt over in his gloved hands. "_Your skills are complete._" Anakin raised the weapon before sheathing it and turning around toward her. "_Indeed you are powerful as the Emperor has foreseen._"

The young man turned around with a determined expression. "_Come with me,_" he said.

"_Obi-Wan once thought as you do,_" Anakin said heavily. Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon's Padawan? What did he have to do with this? "_You don't know the power of the dark side,_" Anakin said as he turned around to face his son. Shmi shivered involuntarily at the frigidity of his words. Anakin had turned to the dark side? Was that how he had survived the immolation? "_I must obey my master._" Master? What master? Could it be… Sidious?

Anakin's son shook his head. "_I will not turn,_" he said. "_And you'll be forced to kill me._"

Anakin hesitated for the briefest of moments before saying "_If that is your destiny._" Shmi gasped and held her hands to her mouth. How could he have said that? He was willing to kill his own son! And for what? For his master? Was he really that slavishly obedient?

"_Search your feelings, Father,_" the young man said fervently as he took two steps towards Anakin. "_You can't do this! I feel the conflict within you, let go of your hate!_"

"Listen to him, Ani!" Shmi pleaded out loud although she was well aware by now that she couldn't do anything to effect the scene.

"_It is… too late for me, Son,_" he said instead. Shmi's mouth fell open in disgust and disbelief as Anakin waved his hand, summoning a pair of soldiers dressed in white armor. The young man looked similarly disheartened as the soldiers arrived to take him away. "_The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force,_" Anakin intoned. "_He is your master now._"

Anakin's son nodded once with morose acceptance. "_Then my father is truly dead,_" he said solemnly. Anakin watched as his son was escorted away toward the opposite door. After the door had closed behind them, his masked head drooped forward in apparent dismay.

"Anakin, why?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. Why had he done that to his son? Why had he become this heartless machine?

"So now you understand."

Shmi swung her head around once again to find herself back in the chamber with Plagueis. Blinking a few times, Shmi found that she was lying on her back with Plagueis looming over her from his chair. Propping herself up on her elbows, Shmi scooted away from him.

"I don't understand," she said in a trembling voice. "What happened to him?"

"Sidious corrupted him," Plagueis said. "He plans to use him to enforce his will. He intends to break your son into submission and eternal servitude. He will become a slave once more if Sidious gets his way."

"B-but why would… why would Anakin have let that happen?"

"I do not know," Plagueis said. "But I can tell you with certainty that this is your son's fate if you do not fulfill your destiny and defeat the Sith."

"No," Shmi said as she struggled to her feet and shook her head vigorously. "Anakin wouldn't do that. Not if I was with him."

"Is that so?" Plagueis asked condescendingly.

"Yes!" she said loudly. "He needs his mother!"

"He does, but not in the manner you are proposing," Plagueis said coldly.

"You're wrong!"

"You are being a fool, Skywalker!" Plagueis bellowed, his booming voice echoing so loudly that she was forced to place her hands against her ears. "What do you think will happen if you leave here to find your son?" he asked. "He is with the Jedi now. They will not allow you to take him. And even if by some miracle you are reunited with him, you will never be strong enough on your own to truly protect him. Not now that you have been revealed. You need me, Skywalker. You need my training."

Shmi took a step backward as her eyes began to water up with tears. "I can't leave him," she said. "He means everything to me."

"That is exactly why you must let him go," Plagueis countered. "He will never be safe until Sidious is defeated."

Shmi clenched her jaw and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She could concur with this point yet still not fundamentally agree with Plagueis' assessment. She knew the Jedi would not be able to protect Anakin from Sidious. She knew they were neither competent nor strong enough to uncover and defeat him. Yet nonetheless, she couldn't commit herself to Plagueis' teaching. She couldn't abandon her son for an indefinite amount of time like that. Her son needed her! He would be all alone without her. And wouldn't that make him more susceptible to the dark side if she wasn't by his side?

"This is the burden of the Chosen One," Plagueis said in a softer, more compassionate voice. "You must make this sacrifice for the sake of the galaxy."

"Don't you dare!" Shmi spat viciously. "Don't you dare tell me what I have to do! You are not my master!" Plagueis growled and lowered his head, clearly struggling to keep maintain his composure. "Have you ever considered that the whole reason why Anakin turned to the dark side at all in that future was because I abandoned him?" she asked. "I would be playing directly into Sidious' hand by leaving him behind to join you!"

"The boy doesn't matter!" Plagueis roared.

"He doesn't matter?" Shmi repeated incredulously.

"He was a mistake! An aberration! He is superfluous to this story!"

"Superfluous?"

"You were meant to be the Chosen One! Not this boy! Sidious complicated everything by creating him!"

Shmi resumed backing away, becoming increasingly disenchanted with her supposed father. "I will not be separated from my son," she said. "If you want to train me, you will have to bring him to me."

"That's impossible, Skywalker! Surely you must know that."

"Then I guess we're done here," Shmi said shortly.

Plagueis opened his mouth to say something when both of them froze. Shmi's eyes widened as she felt the piercing cold – which she had almost entirely forgotten about by this point – dissipate slightly in the face of a soothing, deeply familiar warmth.

"The Jedi are here," Plagueis spat, his yellow eyes burning with hatred, disgust, and perhaps even fear. "How?" he asked as the cadence of his breathing device accelerated. "How did they find us?" Shmi smiled in spite of Plagueis' fearsome wrath.

"Qui-Gon," she whispered to herself. "You came for me."


	8. Fate

_Serenno_

Qui-Gon leapt out of his commandeered Nubian fighter onto the landing platform outside Dooku's palace on Serenno. Pushing the hair out of his face, Qui-Gon tensed up when he saw Dooku standing across the platform with his hands behind his back. Robes billowing about in the wind, Dooku took a few rigid steps toward him.

"I must say, this is most unexpected," he said. Dooku stopped abruptly when Qui-Gon produced his lightsaber and activated it.

"Cut the bullshit, Dooku," Qui-Gon said viciously. "Where is my wife?"

Dooku removed his hands from behind his back and held them up as he eyed Qui-Gon's emerald blade warily. "You made a terrible mistake coming here, my friend," he said.

Qui-Gon held his blade up to the side of his head and assumed his offensive posture. He knew he didn't stand much of a chance against his former master in a duel, but he was too furious to think straight in the moment. "Where is she?" he asked again.

"Shmi came with me on her own volition," Dooku said calmly, although his hands began to creep downward toward his belt. "She is in no danger here, I can assure you."

"I can't believe anything you say," Qui-Gon said. "You're a Sith!"

Dooku's hands dropped to his sides and he frowned in apparent disappointment. "That is uncharacteristically closed-minded of you," he said. "There are a great many things you do not understand, my friend."

"Is that so?" Qui-Gon asked sharply, yet he couldn't deny that he wasn't somewhat intrigued. He could detect no deceit from Dooku. He seemed to be acting entirely genuine with him. But then again, perhaps he had merely mastered the art of deception. After all, how could it have been that Qui-Gon had not been able to sense until now that Dooku had turned to the dark side?

"Let me take you to my master," Dooku said. "He will explain everything to you."

"Your master? What master?"

"You will see," Dooku said vaguely.

"I don't think so," Qui-Gon said with a shake of his head. "I want to see Shmi."

"And you will," Dooku said smoothly. "If you follow me."

Qui-Gon lowered his lightsaber a fraction as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Fine," he spat. He didn't have much of a choice but to follow Dooku. He could only hope that he wasn't being lied to once again.

Qui-Gon deactivated his lightsaber but he didn't reattach it to his belt. Gripping the hilt tightly in his right hand, Qui-Gon gestured to Dooku to lead the way. Dooku gave one last glance at Qui-Gon's lightsaber before spinning away and walking back toward the palace.

* * *

"Qui-Gon!"

Shmi rushed forward when Dooku and Qui-Gon arrived in the chamber. Enveloping her husband in a tight hug, she closed her eyes tight and exhaled loudly in relief. Qui-Gon patted her on the back, but she could tell that he was tense. He clearly wanted answers.

Stepping away from him, Shmi glanced back at Plagueis who was watching her with his eyes narrowed to slits. "Master Jinn," he said in a low voice. "Dooku has told me so much about you."

"Who are you?" Qui-Gon asked as Shmi stepped aside and latched onto his left arm.

"How did you find us?" Plagues asked, ignoring Qui-Gon's question.

"It wasn't that hard," Qui-Gon said. "I knew Dooku would be here. Windu saw him taking Shmi away from Tatooine."

Plagueis' eyes widened as he leaned back in his seat. "Windu?" he repeated. "You didn't tell me about that, Dooku."

From behind her, Shmi heard Dooku gulp audibly in fear. "I'm sorry, Master," he said in a high voice. "I thought… I thought it wasn't relevant."

"Wasn't relevant?" Plagueis repeated with a roar. "How could you be this stupid, Dooku? We have been exposed to the whole Jedi Order!"

"Not exactly," Qui-Gon said.

"What do you mean?" Shmi asked, giving his arm a squeeze.

"The Jedi will not be here for at least a week," Qui-Gon said, looking at her. "I managed to divert them for now."

"You speak as if you are not a Jedi," Plagueis said in a rumbling voice.

"I am a husband first," Qui-Gon said proudly. "The Order's demands are forever secondary do me." Surprised by this proclamation, Plagueis blinked a few times and glanced at Shmi. "Who are you?" Qui-Gon asked once again, capitalizing on Plagueis' silence. "And what do you want with my wife?"

Plagueis growled angrily at this. "She is not yours," he said. "She is mine."

"Shmi is her own person," Qui-Gon countered, matching Plagueis' fiery tone with equal vehemence.

Plagueis opened his mouth to offer a retort, but Shmi stopped him by stepping in between the two and holding up her hands. "Stop this," she said forcefully to Plagueis. Turning back to Qui-Gon, she lowered her hands. "Qui-Gon, this is my… father," she said, the word feeling awkward coming out of her mouth.

Qui-Gon's mouth fell open a bit as he looked beyond Shmi to Plagueis. "He's your father?" he asked disbelievingly.

"In a sense," she said. "He created me, just like Sidious created Anakin." Qui-Gon flinched, but Shmi didn't pay attention to him as a thought struck her. "Wait a second," she said, spinning back around to face Plagueis. "You taught Sidious how to do that, didn't you?" she asked.

"Yes, I did," Plagueis confirmed.

"So did you do what he did to my… mother?" she asked. Shmi had never known her mother. She had been taken by the Jedi as an infant, so she didn't have any memories of her. Nonetheless, she didn't have a vague recollection of her through the Force. It was hard to describe, but she did know for sure that she had _had _a mother. Had Plagueis violated her much like Sidious had done to her?

"No," Plagueis said. "I can assure you it was entirely consensual."

"But –"

"We don't have to talk about this, Skywalker," Plagueis interrupted rudely. "We must deal with Jinn first."

Shmi turned around and saw a very bewildered-looking Qui-Gon staring at her with his brow furrowed. "You mean to say… he created you?" he asked.

"Yes," Shmi said with a bob of her head. What was so hard to understand about that? He knew that Sidious had done the same thing for Anakin.

Qui-Gon's eyes widened as he held his left hand up to his forehead. "I don't believe this," he said, more so to himself than to anyone else. "All this time, and I didn't know."

"What are you talking about?" Shmi asked, bemused by his reaction.

"She's the Chosen One, isn't she?" Qui-Gon asked to Plagueis. When Plagueis didn't reply, Qui-Gon looked back at her and nodded. "She has to be," he said.

"But what about Anakin?" she asked. "I thought you thought it was him?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "I was mistaken," he said a bit hoarsely.

When he didn't elaborate, Shmi frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Qui-Gon, what are you –"

"Anakin is my son," he blurted out. Shmi froze, her mouth hanging ajar. What was he talking about? He knew that Anakin wasn't his son. She had told him everything. "Obi-Wan did a paternity test back on Coruscant," Qui-Gon told her. "I'm the father."

"What?" she said incredulously. "But, Qui-Gon –"

"You must have been pregnant when you went to Jakku," Qui-Gon said.

Shmi's eyes widened as well as she considered this possibility. "But what did Sidious… do to me?" she asked, her voice catching a bit.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said. "Maybe nothing. Maybe he didn't actually succeed because you were already pregnant."

"Is that possible?" Shmi asked, turning back to Plagueis. The decrepit master was staring back at Qui-Gon with a perplexed expression, his long fingers scratching against his armrests as he curled and uncurled them absentmindedly.

"I suppose," he said after a long silence. "If you were carrying the child, I do not know what the effect the process would have. Perhaps he enhanced the pre-existing midichlorians somehow…"

"But I am the father, nonetheless," Qui-Gon said.

Plagueis nodded dazedly while Shmi rubbed her temples, still wrapping her mind around this incredible information. Her throat felt dry and scratchy as she stumbled backward a bit toward Qui-Gon.

"Shmi, please say something," he said, placing his hand on her back.

The guilt hit her like a ton of bricks when she looked up into Qui-Gon's expectant eyes. She had ran away in large part because she had thought it unfair to ask Qui-Gon to help her raise a child which wasn't even his. Now it turned out she had been wrong about that. Not only would he have raised Anakin without objection regardless, he actually was the father after all. She had robbed him of the opportunity to know his own son for nine years because of her mistake.

"I… I'm so sorry," she said in a trembling voice.

"You're sorry? Whatever for?" Qui-Gon asked with a frown.

"I ruined everything, Qui-Gon," she said, unable to make eye contact with him anymore. "Surely you must see that. I never should have ran away."

"Shmi, look at me." Reluctantly, Shmi inclined her head toward Qui-Gon. "Don't do that to yourself. None of this is your fault."

"But it is!" she insisted.

"No, this is Sidious' fault," Qui-Gon said decisively. "You are the victim, Shmi. Not the perpetrator. I don't blame you for any of this." Shmi sighed deeply and looked away toward Dooku who was watching them intently. He had said something very similar to her during their trip from Tatooine. He and Qui-Gon were so very much alike, after all, despite the fact that Dooku had turned his back on the light whereas Qui-Gon had not.

"Do you doubt yourself still, Skywalker?"

Shmi turned toward Plagueis whose pale yellow eyes were fixated on her. "I don't understand," she said.

"You are the Chosen One, not your son," Plagueis said. "It is you who is destined to bring balance to the Force and restore order to the galaxy." Shmi bit her tongue and closed her eyes, the magnitude of the burden overwhelming her. She was the Chosen One? She felt neither special nor powerful. Instead, she felt afraid, vulnerable, and terribly guilty. Guilty for what she had done to Qui-Gon and to a lesser extent what she had done to Anakin. She had robbed her son of having a father!

"You _must _accept my teaching," Plaguies said forcefully. "Only then can you realize your destiny!"

"No," Shmi said at once. "I'm going with Qui-Gon. My family has to be reunited."

"You are being selfish!" Plagueis bellowed, causing Shmi to shrink back into Qui-Gon's arms. "The fate of the galaxy is dependent on you! Are you really going to squander your responsibilities for the sake of this man?"

"Don't you dare talk to her that way!" Qui-Gon roared, activating the lightsaber in his right hand.

Incensed by this aggressive gesture, Plagueis swiped his hand in front of him and sent Qui-Gon flying backward. "Qui-Gon!" Shmi cried, but Dooku stopped her when she tried to run to him. "Let me go!" she yelled, struggling against Dooku's grip on her arms. "I said let me go!"

"Shmi –" Dooku tried to say.

With a shriek, she pulled herself free of Dooku and was startled to find that Dooku had been flung away from her and had landed on his back next to Qui-Gon. She had apparently thrown him with her mind without intending to do so.

"Stop this at once, Skywalker," Plagueis rumbled.

Shmi spun toward him, rage coursing through her at this insulting request. "You don't control me!" she screamed. "I'm leaving and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" From behind her, she heard Dooku and Qui-Gon getting to their feet simultaneously.

"You will pledge yourself to me," Plagueis said lowly.

"No, I won't," she retorted petulantly. "I will never bow before you!"

"What do you plan on doing without me?" Plagueis asked. "You do realize you cannot run back to the Jedi. They will take your lightsaber from you and expel Jinn when they find out the truth. Then you will be all alone and utterly defenseless."

Shmi shook her head vigorously, refusing to listen to Plagueis' perfidious words. "I will not turn to the dark side," she said. "And I will not abandon my son."

"Then Sidious will win," Plagueis said.

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

Shmi shook her head once again and reached for her belt. "I will not submit to you, Plagueis," she growled as she produced both her lightsaber and the one she had taken from Maul.

"Yes, you will," Plagueis insisted stubbornly. "For I can see your heart, Shmi Skywalker. I know your every thought and feeling. I see your every intent and motivation."

"Then you know that I am going to kill you," she said savagely as she activated the two blades.

Plagueis had the audacity to laugh. "No, you won't," he said. From behind her she heard the sound of two separate lightsabers being activated. She didn't dare look away from Plagueis to see what was happening, however. "I know what is most important to you, and that is not Jinn."

Shmi flinched involuntarily at this, the truth of the words striking deep. "Qui-Gon is far more important to me than you are, if that's what you're getting at," she said stiffly.

Plagueis smirked and looked up from her toward Qui-Gon. Shmi followed his gaze to see that Qui-Gon and Dooku both were holding their lightsabers up, ready to rush to the defense of their respective companions. "You would do anything for your son," Plagueis said, and Shmi returned her attention to him. "Isn't that right?"

"Of course," she said without hesitation.

"That is why you will pledge yourself to me," Plagueis said. "Otherwise you will doom him to the fate I showed you."

Shmi faltered as she remembered the horror she felt when she saw Anakin's immolation and his subsequent pitiful existence in that suit. "I won't allow that to happen to him," she said. "Not if he has me – not if he has his _parents_ by his side."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Plagueis said with a tilt of his head.

"Of course I do!"

"Then you are a fool," Plagueis said acrimoniously. "Once the Jedi inevitably expel you and Jinn, Sidious will find you and he will kill you. Then he will take your son and he will corrupt him. He will torture him and bend him into submission. He will turn him into a machine, thoroughly broken and crippled by grief and suffering. This is the fate of your precious Anakin. This is the fate to which you will subject him if you choose Jinn over me."

Shmi's grip slackened on the two lightsabers in her hand as she bowed her head, the pressure of the decision before her weighing heavily upon her neck. She didn't want to listen to Plagueis. She didn't want to admit that he had a point. She wanted to run away with Qui-Gon and start the family she should have had ten years ago. But she couldn't do that. It would be selfish of her. She had seen her son's fate. She couldn't let that happen to him…

"Shmi, don't listen to him!" Qui-Gon called out from behind her.

"Silence, Jinn!" Plagueis snapped.

Frustrated with herself, Shmi slashed down at the ground in front of her with both lightsabers, the red and blue crossing as they sent embers flying upward toward the base of Plagueis' chair. Deactivating the weapons, she dropped them to the ground as she pressed her hands against her temples.

"You know what you have to do, Skywalker," Plagueis whispered to her.

She couldn't do it! She couldn't leave Qui-Gon for a second time. She couldn't leave her son behind!

"You will do this for your son," Plagueis said, his voice seemingly penetrating her mind and reverberating eerily in her skull. "You will do this for the good of the galaxy."

Shmi fell to her knees and covered her eyes with her hands. She saw the disfigured form of Anakin's smoldering body, his one remaining limb clawing desperately at the ashen ground in front of him. She saw the terrified young woman shrinking away from the giant, fearsome shadow that her son had become. She saw the sorrowful expression on her grandson's face when his father rebuffed his offer to return to the light. She saw a future that had to be avoided at all costs.

"Join me," Plagueis demanded. "It is your destiny."

Shmi dragged her hands down her face, her finger nails pulling her lower eyelids. She felt just like she had in the bathroom that fateful day in the Jedi Temple. She knew what she had to do, but she couldn't bear to do it. She couldn't bear to break Qui-Gon's heart once again. What was wrong with her? Why did she keep doing this to him? But once again, she had to choose Anakin over him. She had to do this to save her son from a fate worse than death.

"I'm so sorry, Qui-Gon," she said hoarsely as she got back to her feet, her legs wobbling underneath her in a physical manifestation of her lack of resolve. Turning around, she kept her head down, unable to look at him. "I have to do this."

"Shmi –"

"Look after my… our son," she said. "Make sure he's safe."

"You don't have to do this!"

"I… I'm so sorry," she said again.

Qui-Gon's chest heaved furiously as he looked up from Shmi to Plagueis. "You son of a bitch," he said to Plagueis. "You've lied to her! What have you told her?"

"The truth," Plagueis said smoothly, his voice bursting with triumph.

"You won't take her from me!" Qui-Gon shouted. Rushing forward, Qui-Gon was stopped at once when Plagueis pushed him back with a casual flick of his wrist. Landing on his back, Qui-Gon jumped up quickly and ran back toward them with lightsaber in hand. Dooku quickly stepped in between Qui-Gon and Plagueis with his own lightsaber held up defensively.

"Don't be a fool," Dooku said when Qui-Gon came to an abrupt stop in front of his former master.

"Step aside, Dooku," Qui-Gon said.

"You don't stand a chance," Dooku said. "Leave now while you still can."

"I'm not leaving without Shmi."

"So be it."

Qui-Gon and Dooku both swung at each other at the same time. "No!" Shmi shrieked when their blades met. "Don't hurt him!" Shmi knew that while Qui-Gon was a talented warrior, he didn't stand a chance against Dooku on his own. Picking up her discarded lightsabers, Shmi made to rush forward to Qui-Gon's aid when Plagueis stopped her in her tracks with the Force.

"Leave them!" Plagueis ordered as he rotated her immobilized body back to face him.

"No! Please don't hurt him!" she begged, hysterical tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, please, please!"

Plagueis contemplated her face for a moment before looking up from her. Shmi desperately tried to wrench herself out of Plagueis' grip so that she could see what was ensuing behind her, but she was unable to so much as budge. All the while, she could hear the all too familiar sound of lightsabers clashing in the background…

"Leave here, Jinn!" Plagueis said. "Skywalker has made her decision." Qui-Gon was evidently unable to respond, too preoccupied with dueling Dooku. Plagueis growled irritably and looked back down at Shmi. "We don't have time for this," he said to her. "Make him leave, or else."

Shmi's limbs unfroze and she jumped to her feet. When she reached down to grab her lightsabers, however, they flew out of her reach and into Plagueis' extended hands. "Give them back!" she demanded.

"No," Plagueis said. "You will not need them."

"Do you not trust me?" Shmi asked.

"No," Plagueis said bluntly.

Shmi snarled at him, but nonetheless turned around toward the fight. Dooku had managed to push Qui-Gon back several meters away from her and Plagueis. Qui-Gon's face – which was illuminated by the green of his lightsaber – was shining with sweat whereas Dooku seemed not to be exerting himself hardly at all, with one hand held casually behind his back while he dueled.

"Stop! Please stop!" she pleaded to the two men.

Qui-Gon hesitated, the two blades crackling as he pressed his lightsaber into Dooku's. "He's lying to you, Shmi," Qui-Gon said, his eyes never leaving Dooku's. "Can't you see that? He wants to use you!"

"He's not lying, Qui-Gon," Shmi said wearily.

"Of course he is! He's a Sith!"

"You don't understand. I have to do this."

"No you don't!"

"Qui-Gon, please." Qui-Gon finally looked away from Dooku toward her beseeching eyes. He faltered, sensing the sincerity of her plea. "You have to believe me," she said.

Qui-Gon took a step away from Dooku and lowered his lightsaber. Dooku followed Qui-Gon's suit, yet he kept his blade up at the ready. "Will I ever see you again?" Qui-Gon asked softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the two lightsabers.

Shmi cringed and looked back toward Plagueis. "I don't know," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I hope so."

Qui-Gon deactivated his lightsaber and sagged his shoulders dejectedly. Feeling overwhelmed with guilt, Shmi rushed forward impulsively. When Dooku made to stop her, she cast him aside with an angry swipe of her arm. Without looking to see what happened to him, she ran forward and embraced Qui-Gon who received her stiffly as if he wasn't sure if he should reciprocate the gesture.

"I don't want to lose you again," he whispered into her ear.

"I don't want to lose you either," she replied with a sniffle. "But I have to do this. I have to defeat Sidious."

"But why do you have to leave me to do that?" Qui-Gon asked.

"You know why, Qui-Gon," she said. "You know that I can't return to Coruscant."

Qui-Gon sighed and squeezed her tighter, seemingly unwilling to let her go. "We could run away," he suggested. "I could leave the Order and we could finally be together. The three of us."

Shmi shook her head against Qui-Gon's shoulder. "I can't do that," she said. "We will never be safe as long as Sidious lives."

"I know," Qui-Gon said heavily. "I know." The couple stayed that way for a full minute, swaying slightly as neither was willing to let the other go. Behind her, she felt Plagueis' eyes on her back. She could feel his impatience and irritation growing by the second. He wanted Qui-Gon gone as soon as possible.

Finally Shmi pulled away. Looking up, she could see that Qui-Gon's eyes were shining with tears. Rising up on her toes, she kissed him softly on the lips and stepped away quickly. "Look after Anakin for me," she said. "Make sure he's safe."

"I will," Qui-Gon said with firm resolve in spite of his haggard appearance. "I will protect him with my life."

* * *

_Naboo_

With great reluctance, Qui-Gon departed from Serenno that afternoon. He still didn't fully understand why Shmi felt she couldn't return with him, but he was able to respect her wishes no matter how much he didn't want to. As he jumped his Nubian fighter into hyperspace, Qui-Gon slumped back in his seat and held his head in his hands.

He had never before felt so dejected or lost in his whole life. At least when Shmi had left him the first time, he hadn't know what had happened to her. He had convinced himself that she hadn't actually wanted to leave him, but was forced to for some reason. Now he knew that she had made a conscious choice to abandon him. That made the pain sting all the more fiercely.

He didn't know what to do with himself anymore. He had dedicated the first years of his adult life to Shmi. When she had disappeared ten years ago, he had shifted his focus to finding her. Now that he had finally realized his dream and found her, she was gone once again. He felt directionless without her.

He wanted to hate her for what she had done to him. He wanted to be able to move on from her and live his life without having to carry the perpetual pain of loss with him wherever he went. Yet he couldn't do either of those things. He knew that Shmi wasn't a bad person. He knew that she didn't want to hurt him in the way that she had. Extraneous circumstances had placed her into impossible positions in which she had been forced to prioritize her son over him. He understood this on a rational level, and as a consequence he wasn't able to despise her like he wanted.

And thus he knew that he would have to dedicate himself to a new purpose now that Shmi was gone from his life for a second time. That purpose would indubitably be Anakin. He had promised to Shmi that he would protect the boy at whatever cost, and Qui-Gon knew that he wasn't being hyperbolic; he would do anything for Anakin. He would do anything for this last vestige of Shmi that remained in his life.

Qui-Gon cringed as he considered what he would have to tell the boy when he returned to Naboo. He couldn't tell him everything at once. That would be too much for poor Anakin to handle. No, he would have to be methodical about this. Should he start with the painful truth – that his mother was gone and might never return – or the shocking truth – that he was his father? Either way, the boy would be stunned and, in the former case, possibly traumatized with grief.

He would have to tell him the painful truth first. It wouldn't be fair to withhold that information from him. Besides, Qui-Gon was afraid to tell him the other truth. What would Anakin's reaction be? Would he be elated to meet his true father, or would he be angry? Would he resent Qui-Gon for not being a part of his life until now? Would he blame him for the dreadful circumstances of his birth and early childhood? Even though it was true that none of these things were actually Qui-Gon's fault, he couldn't blame Anakin if he felt this way.

On top of all of this, he would be forced to ask the boy to hide their relation. He couldn't allow the Council to find out that Anakin was his son, otherwise they would expel both of them for sure. It was imperative that Qui-Gon be able to remain in the Order and that he convince the Council to accept Anakin as his Padawan. Only then would Anakin truly be protected. Without the support of the Jedi, Qui-Gon knew that Anakin would be exposed to Sidious. He knew that Shmi had stressed that the Jedi would be unable to protect Anakin in the long-term, he also knew that they would be able to do a far better job than he would be able to do on his own.

This wouldn't be an easy feat to achieve, however. The Council had been quite firm about its insistence that Anakin not be admitted into the Order. Qui-Gon also knew that if he pushed the issue, their resolve would only become more rigid. Once the Council made up its mind about something, it was extremely difficult to persuade them otherwise. Paradoxically, Qui-Gon knew that the way to penetrate the Council's obstinacy on this particular matter was by way of its most stubborn and intransigent member: Mace Windu. It was undeniable that Windu had a soft spot for Shmi, his former Padawan. If there was any way to change his mind, it would be through that angle.

Qui-Gon's head was still swimming with all these imposing questions, doubts, and woes when he jumped out of hyperspace into orbit around Naboo. It was only then that he realized he had made a horrible mistake. He had been too preoccupied with his thoughts that he had forgot about the Federation blockade over the planet. His fears were allayed, however, when he saw that the blockade was gone. Shifting to manual controls, Qui-Gon maneuvered the Nubian fighter around the sea of debris which was floating in a ring around the planet. Evidently it seemed the Federation fleet had been defeated somehow. Qui-Gon was too relived to bother asking himself how this had happened.

An hour later he was touching his borrowed ship down on to a launch pad outside the palace in Theed. Popping the cockpit open, Qui-Gon looked down to see a small delegation of Nubian soldiers awaiting him. At the front was the always-austere Captain Panaka, his hands held behind his back as he stood at attention.

"Master Jinn, welcome back to Theed," he said as Qui-Gon jumped off the ladder onto the ground of the launch pad.

"It's good to be back," Qui-Gon said disingenuously as he bowed slightly.

Panaka reciprocated the gesture and held his hand out as he stepped aside. "If you will follow me," he said. "The queen is expecting you."

"I assume the battle was a success?" Qui-Gon asked as he fell into step with Panaka, the soldiers following in a line behind them.

"Remarkably, yes," Panaka said with a loud exhale.

"I saw the wreckage of the Federation fleet when I arrived," Qui-Gon said as they walked through the hangar toward the Palace. "How did that happen?"

"The Queen will inform you of the specifics," Panaka said.

Qui-Gon nodded and fell silent. His mind began to drift again as they made their way into the palace. He hoped Anakin hadn't been involved too much in the battle. When he had left, he had told Anakin to stay hidden in the cockpit of a fighter. Surely nothing bad could have happened to him, right?

Panaka pushed open a pair of oak doors and strode forward into a vast, oval-shaped throne room. Looking up, Qui-Gon marveled at the high-domed ceiling which was supported by broad, marble columns. Walking up a short set of stairs, Qui-Gon saw a group awaiting him. The Queen was seated on a throne directly in front of him, her handmaidens standing at attention behind her. To the Queen's right stood the white-haired Sio Bibble, her most senior advisor. To her left stood Obi-Wan and Anakin. As Qui-Gon approached, Obi-Wan stood up straighter and held his hands stiffly by his sides. Anakin, on the other hand, looked up and smiled broadly.

"Master Qui-Gon! Master Qui-Gon!" he said excitedly as he rushed toward him. Obi-Wan frowned disapprovingly as Anakin came to a stop in front of him. "You're back!"

"I am," Qui-Gon said with a strained smile.

"Anakin, come back here," Obi-Wan said sternly. "You are being rude to the Queen." Anakin turned around quickly and gave Obi-Wan a rueful look. Qui-Gon watched as he scuttered back over to Obi-Wan's side, his throat feeling somewhat constricted as he contemplated how enthralled Anakin had seemed about his return. Perhaps the boy sensed the connection between the two of them as well, yet was not sophisticated enough in the ways of the Force to be able to identify it…

"Sorry, your Majesty," Anakin mumbled to the Queen.

Amidala laughed and gave Anakin a charming smile. "That's quite alright, Anakin," she said. "You are a hero on this planet. You may act however you please."

Anakin smirked up at Obi-Wan who rolled his eyes. "A hero?" Qui-Gon asked. "What are you talking about?"

Amidala's grin faded into a frown as she returned her attention to him. Evidently she had been offended by his lack of formality. Or perhaps she was still angry at him for leaving on the eve of the battle. Either way, Qui-Gon couldn't pretend as if he cared what she thought of him. If he got his way, he wouldn't be interacting with the young queen anymore after today.

"In your absence, Anakin played a critical role in the battle," Amidala informed him dryly.

"What?!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, his mouth falling open in shock. "I told him to hide! I thought he was supposed to be safe with you!"

"Anakin apparently had other ideas," Amidala said with a subtle smirk. Qui-Gon turned his incredulous gaze to Anakin who was staring determinedly at his shoes. "He piloted a fighter and somehow managed to destroy the droid control station orbiting the planet, which deactivated the droid army."

Qui-Gon opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to find the words. Should he reprimand the boy, like any father would, or should he thank him for his miraculous contributions, like any Jedi would? Either way, he was too stunned to speak regardless.

"Are you angry?" Anakin asked in a small voice.

"Angry?" Qui-Gon repeated. "Of course not, I'm just… surprised, that's all."

"So were we all," Panaka said, standing next to Bibble on the Queen's right. "Skywalker here is quite the pilot, it seems."

"Clearly," Qui-Gon said faintly.

Just then, a loud creaking sound echoed throughout the vast throne room, indicating that someone had arrived. Spinning around, Qui-Gon saw a sizable delegation approaching. At the front was a buoyant grey-haired man, a wide smile imprinted on his lined face. Qui-Gon stepped aside next to Anakin and Obi-Wan as the delegation walked up the stairs toward the queen.

"Congratulations on your election, Chancellor. It is good to see you again," Amidala said as the delegation stopped before her. Qui-Gon's eyes widened as he watched the Chancellor bow before the Queen reverently. So this was the Chancellor of the Republic? Qui-Gon hadn't known that the previous one had been replaced, but then again he never cared much for politics in the first place.

"It's good to be home," the Chancellor said cheerily. "Your boldness has saved our people, your Majesty. It is you who should be congratulated. Together we shall bring peace and prosperity to the Republic."

The Chancellor then turned his attention toward Obi-Wan. "We are indebted to you for your bravery, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said with a shallow bow. "And you, young Skywalker," he added with a grin toward Anakin who was looking up at the Chancellor with a nervous expression. "We will watch your career with great interest."

Qui-Gon reached down and patted Anakin reassuringly on the shoulder. For the briefest of moments, the Chancellor's ebullient expression darkened and his eyes narrowed as he watched this innocent gesture. His radiant countenance returned in the blink of an eye, however, and Qui-Gon convinced himself that he must have been imagining things. Was he really paranoid enough to think that the Chancellor suspected something about his relationship with Anakin? That was preposterous!

"I assume you will stay for the celebration tomorrow, Chancellor?" Amidala asked, rousing Qui-Gon from his musings.

"Of course, your Majesty," the Chancellor said.

"And what about you, Master Jinn?" Amidala asked him. "Will you and your pupils be staying?"

"I would be honored to, but we don't have a place to stay the night," Qui-Gon said.

"Don't worry about that," Amidala said at once. "You will stay in the palace."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Qui-Gon said with a bow.

"Eirtaé will lead you to your rooms," Amidala said, gesturing to one of her interchangeable handmaidens. "We will see you in the morning."

The three of them bowed to the Queen one last time before following the handmaiden down the steps toward the exit. Qui-Gon glanced behind him briefly to see the Chancellor's eyes following him as he departed. Disquieted, Qui-Gon turned away quickly.

Anakin had rushed ahead and was talking to Eirtaé with his typical boyish enthusiasm. Qui-Gon was relieved to see that he seemed unharmed. The battle hadn't been traumatic for him, fortunately. On the contrary, it seemed to have rejuvenated him somewhat, giving him a reprieve from the pain of losing his mother. Qui-Gon could understand if that was the case. The many battles he had partaken in over the past ten years had given him something else to focus on other than obsessing over finding Shmi. It seemed Anakin and Qui-Gon were alike in more ways than one.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon looked up sharply to see Obi-Wan looking at him expectantly. They had exited the throne room and were making their way down a magnificent red-carpeted hallway. Anakin and Eirtaé were a little ways a head, just out of earshot.

"Master, I wanted to apologize," Obi-Wan said quietly.

"Apologize. For what?" Qui-Gon asked for the second time in as many days.

"It was wrong of me to question you regarding the boy," Obi-Wan said, looking down at his feet as they walked onward. "It would be wrong of me to reveal your… relation to Anakin to the Council."

Qui-Gon glanced at him briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching with pleasant surprise. He had somehow managed to forget all about Obi-Wan's threat to turn him into the Council. With everything going on, that dilemma had apparently slipped his mind. Nonetheless, it was a tremendous relief to no longer have to deal with this particular problem. "May I ask what caused you to change your mind?" he asked.

"Anakin is a remarkable boy," Obi-Wan said, looking up to watch Anakin in the distance. "He may not be the Chosen One, but he certainly is special."

"I agree," Qui-Gon said with a wistful smile. "He is so very much like his mother."

"And his father," Obi-Wan said at once. Qui-Gon's melancholy smile warmed at this as he turned to his Padawan. He stopped walking and placed his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder just like how he had done with Anakin moments prior.

"I am very proud of you, Obi-Wan," he told him. "Don't think otherwise just because Anakin is my son. You are as much my son as he is."

Obi-Wan blushed a bit and looked down at his feet. "Thank you, Master," he mumbled.

Qui-Gon smiled at his Padawan for a moment longer before looking to his right. "Come on," he said as he took his hand off Obi-Wan's shoulder. "We don't want to get lost in this palace. We might never find our way out if we do." Obi-Wan chuckled softly as the two Jedi hurried after their guide. Side by side, father and son in every way but one.


	9. Home

_Naboo_

"Anakin? May I have a word?"

Qui-Gon was standing outside of the room which the Queen had been generous enough to offer to Anakin. They stayed the night in the palace and had attended a victory parade that morning. Qui-Gon had delayed talking to Anakin up until now, having decided that it would be best to allow Anakin to enjoy the parade without being burdened by the news that his mother was gone, perhaps forever. He could no longer rationalize his procrastination, however. He would have to tell Anakin the truth sooner rather than later.

"Come in," he heard Anakin say from behind the door.

Qui-Gon turned the doorknob and stepped into the compact yet nonetheless grandiose guest room. Anakin was packing the small bag Shmi had given him on Tatooine. He was dressed in a cream tunic and a matching pair of pants which the queen's handmaidens had provided. He had taken a shower as well, removing the grime which had developed over the past few days from the podrace and the battle. Little Anakin had been through quite a lot this week.

"How are you?" Qui-Gon asked tentatively as Anakin stuffed an unfolded shirt into his bag. He couldn't help but feel awkward in Anakin's presence. It made him feel guilty when he saw how much Anakin adored and admired him. It was irrational, of course, but he felt like a failure nonetheless. He hated that he had not been a part of his own son's life for nearly an entire decade.

"Alright," Anakin said half-heartedly as he struggled to zip up his overpacked bag. He stained with the zipper for a few more moments before giving up with a huff.

"Here, let me handle that," Qui-Gon suggested gently. Anakin didn't respond and instead sat down on the bed. Interpreting this as permission, Qui-Gon picked the bag off the bed and began taking the clothes out and folding them properly.

"Master Qui-Gon, sir?" Anakin said, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. "What will happen to me now?"

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, his eyes darting up briefly from the bag to meet Anakin's inquisitive gaze.

"I can't go back to Coruscant with you, because the Council wouldn't let me," Anakin said morosely. Qui-Gon opened his mouth to object, but Anakin continued on. "And I can't go back to Tatooine either. Because… my mom is gone. Isn't she?"

Qui-Gon closed his mouth and swallowed hard. "What makes you say that?" he asked in a strained voice.

"I can feel it," Anakin said quietly. Qui-Gon said nothing, his heart breaking at these tragic words. "Will I ever see her again?" he asked.

Qui-Gon set the shirt he had been folding down and kneeled in front of Anakin. "What do you think?" he asked softly.

"I hope so," Anakin said. He felt uncomfortable since Anakin was staring directly into his eyes, yet Qui-Gon didn't allow himself to look away. Instead, he reached forward and placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder.

"Then you will," he said, desperately trying to keep his voice even for Anakin's sake.

Anakin looked down and sniffled. "I miss her," he said.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and squeezed Anakin's shoulder gently. "I know," he said. _So do I_, he thought to himself. Qui-Gon looked at his son for a moment longer before retracting his hand and standing upright. "But don't worry, Ani," he said as he returned his attention to folding. "You're not alone. You're coming with me to Coruscant."

Anakin looked up quickly. "But the Council –"

"Screw the Council," Qui-Gon said, causing Anakin's eyes to widen with surprise. "I will train you, Anakin," Qui-Gon said passionately. "You _will_ become a Jedi."

* * *

_Serenno_

After Qui-Gon had left, Plagueis had insisted that they leave Serenno as soon as possible. While she had assured him that Qui-Gon wouldn't reveal their location to the Council, Plagueis wasn't willing to take the risk. Besides, if the Jedi were indeed searching for Dooku, it was only a matter of time before they checked his home world. While Dooku prepared his ship and got them ready to depart the palace, Shmi began her first lesson with Plagueis down in the crypt.

"You must appreciate the dual nature of the Force if you want to truly maximize your powers," he instructed.

"What does that even mean?" Shmi asked exasperatedly.

Plagueis took a deep breath through his respirator before answering, clearly growing frustrated with her belligerent opposition to him. "It means that you must learn to control both the light and the dark," he said ardently.

"No," Shmi said at once. "I already told you. I'm not going to use the dark side."

"That is the Jedi talking!" Plagueis bellowed angrily. Shmi flinched, but stood her guard, determined not to let her father intimidate her. "They are narrow-minded fools. You must broaden your mind."

"The dark side is corruptive," Shmi countered. "One cannot use both the light and the dark. It doesn't work that way."

"How would you know?" Plagueis asked. Stumped by this, Shmi frowned and looked away. "You, my child, are the Chosen One," Plagueis said. "It is said that you will bring _balance _to the Force. Both light and dark are to be harmonized under your influence."

"That's not what the Prophecy means," Shmi said stubbornly.

"You mean that's not how the Jedi interpreted it," Plagueis corrected. "For them, the Prophecy told of the one who would destroy the Sith. While this very well may be true, they choose to ignore the other, more crucial element of the Prophecy which is that the Chosen One is destined to bring balance. What does balance mean if not the harmonization of light and dark?"

"You're wrong," Shmi said. "The Force is naturally light. The dark side is merely a perversion of its natural state. Balance means the eradication of the dark."

Plagueis shook his head and pressed his hand to his broad forehead. "Is that what Windu taught you?" he asked acrimoniously.

Shmi hesitated at the mention of her former master. Windu was unique amongst the Jedi in that he actually employed the dark side in a controlled manner. He alone, so the argument went, was capable of controlling the dark and employing it to his benefit. "No," she said. "It's what I think."

"Well you are wrong to think that," Plagueis said. "The dark side is as much a part of the Force as the light side is. It is understandable why the Jedi fear it, however. It is far more difficult to master. Most Jedi would be incapable of wielding it in the way the Sith do. You, however, are not like most Jedi. Nor are you like most Sith. You are in all intents and purposes the physical manifestation of the Force. The powers I bestowed upon you grant you unprecedented influence over the Force. As a consequence, you have nothing to fear from the dark side. It will not consume you in the way it would for lesser Force-sensitive beings. On the contrary, it will enhance your powers. Once you fully ingratiate yourself in the Force, you will become more powerful than any individual has ever been before. Only then will you be able to defeat Sidious."

Shmi gulped nervously and tapped her foot on the ground, the soft pattering sound echoing loudly in the chamber. She didn't feel like the most powerful person in the galaxy. The prospect of being the physical manifestation of the Force was daunting to say the least. "How do I do it?" she asked after a moment of deliberation. "How does one… use the dark side?"

Although his mouth was obscured by his breathing apparatus, Shmi could tell that Plagueis had smiled widely at this question. His face stretched unnaturally, the folds on either side of his nose deepening with delight. "You already know how," he said.

"Um… no I don't," Shmi said, bemused.

"Do you know how I found you?" Plagueis asked unexpectedly.

Shmi blinked a few times in confusion. "I used the Force to help Anakin win the podrace," she said. "I created a disturbance which you were able to track."

"Indeed, you did," Plagueis said, his voice bursting with mirth. "Yet more specifically, you employed the dark side of the Force."

"No I didn't," she said at once, shaking her head vigorously. "I wouldn't know how."

"One does not require training to use the dark side," Plagueis said. "It is quite easy to tap into, in fact. Difficult to control, but easy to call upon."

"I don't understand," Shmi said.

"Whereas the Jedi train their students to dissociate themselves from their emotions, the Sith emphasize them," Plagueis explained. "The dark side is derived from our most fervent and powerful emotions."

"Like hatred?" Shmi asked.

"Or love," Plagueis said.

"Love?" Shmi repeated dubiously.

"Love is the most powerful emotion we mortals can experience," Plagueis said. "As a consequence, one can employ the dark side to tremendous effect when we are summoning it for the sake of someone we love."

Shmi's brow furrowed as she considered this. Love didn't seem like something she would associate with the dark side. But then again, didn't the Jedi try to prevent her from loving? They made it as hard as possible for her to fall in love with Qui-Gon or to raise her son. Perhaps they feared love so much because they knew it could lead to the dark side like Plagueis was suggesting.

"The magnitude of the disturbance you created was so immense in large part due to the strength of your love for your son," Plagueis told her. "In that moment, you were more powerful than you had ever been before. You must learn how to harness this power consistently. You must learn how to weaponize your love for Anakin."

Shmi shifted her feet nervously. She wasn't sure if she liked the sound of that. Weaponizing her love? What did that even mean?

"Take a seat, my child," Plagueis said with a flourish of his hand. "Allow me to show you the ways of the dark side of the Force."

Shmi pursed her lips and hesitated for a moment longer. She wondered why it was that she wasn't resisting. All her life, she had been taught to fear the dark side and to avoid it at all costs. Yet here she was, actively seeking the teaching of a former Sith Lord. Perhaps she knew deep down that she could trust Plagueis. For whatever reason, she knew that she could. She could tell that he wasn't lying to her about the nature of the dark side. It was clear that there was far more to learn about the Force than the Jedi had ever told her about.

Therefore she sat down cross-legged on the cool floor before Plagueis without so much as a shadow of a doubt. This felt right. She felt as if she was finally in the right place. She tapped he fingers together excitedly as she awaited her father's instructions. Her whole body was abuzz with anticipation, yearning to learn how to channel the powers which she had been told her whole life to avoid. Imagine what Qui-Gon would think of her now? She was breaking the rules in a manner in which even he never would have dared!

"I can sense your eagerness, but I must warn you that this will not be pleasant your first time," Plagueis told her, his smile fading in the face of her effervescent enthusiasm.

"What do you mean?" Shmi asked with a frown.

"The dark side is fueled by our most potent passions and emotions," Plagueis said. "For a former Jedi such as yourself, it might be overwhelming to say the least."

"I can handle it," Shmi said at once. "I'm not afraid."

"You will be," Plagueis said ominously. "You will be." Disquieted by this portentous prediction, Shmi swallowed hard and ceased tapping her fingers together. Resting her hands on her knees, Shmi took a deep breath and stared back at Plagueis with as much confidence as she could muster. Plagueis considered her defiant expression curiously, a glimmer of amusement passing his pale yellow eyes. "I admire your confidence," he said. "You are already well on your way toward eliminating the constraints the Jedi imposed on your mind."

"The Jedi have no power over me anymore," Shmi said.

"Good," Plagueis purred. "Very good. You resent them for what they did to you, do you not?"

Shmi faltered a bit as she considered this question. "A bit," she murmured.

Plagueis narrowed his eyes, clearly dissatisfied by this noncommittal response. "If you wish to truly access the dark side, you cannot adopt this mindset," he said. "I want you to focus solely on your anger. Ignore all other extraneous factors."

"Extraneous factors? But –"

"Silence!" Plagueis snapped. "If you want to learn how to use the dark side, you will follow my instructions without question. Is that clear?"

Shmi lowered her head in shame. "Yes, Father," she said.

"Good," Plagueis said again. "Now, close your eyes."

Shmi did as he said, taking a deep breath as she prepared to ingratiate herself in the Force like the Jedi had taught her to do. At once, she detected the soft humming of the omnipresent energy which surrounded and penetrated her. It was a deeply soothing and familiar presence, one which she had so deeply missed during her ten years in hiding.

"I want you to focus on your resentment for the Jedi," Plagueis said, his powerful voice causing the Force to vibrate around her. "Allow your anger to fill you. Let it guide you."

Shmi scrunched her nose as she shut her eyes even tighter than before. She tried to do as Plagueis asked, but she felt wrong doing it. She didn't hate the Jedi like he wanted her to. Sure, she resented them for forcing her to run away, but she didn't hate them. That was why she had stopped Dooku from killing Windu. While she wished things hadn't gone the way they had, she nevertheless didn't wish ill upon her former master or the rest of the Jedi.

"Concentrate," Plagueis growled, displeased by her ambivalence to his request. "Allow the darkness to eclipse the light."

Shmi purged her contemplations from her mind and redoubled her efforts. Her face twitched, the Force rippling about her as she thought back to that fateful day…

Windu was looking at her, the seemingly perpetual look of disapproval imprinted on his stoic face. Yoda's wide eyes were distant and devoid of compassion as he scrutinized her as if analyzing a specimen rather than a person. The rest of the Masters were watching her with similarly detached expressions. They didn't care about what had happened to her. All they cared about was the Sith. They wanted to know more about Sidious, not about what he had done to her. How he had hurt her…

Rage flared up suddenly from deep within her. Her sightless vision was tinged with red as her breathing became more rapid. _Look at me! _she wanted to scream to Windu. _Help me!_

And yet they did nothing. They looked right through her as they debated amongst themselves whether she was telling the truth or not. Never for a moment did they stop to ask her how she was feeling. Never for a moment did they consider that she may have been horribly scarred by what had happened to her.

She hated them! She had devoted her life to them, and they gave her so little in return. They didn't care for her. They just wanted to use her. She was a slave to them. She had always been a slave. Perhaps that was why she had been so willing to stay on Tatooine after all. Her life hadn't been any different there, after all.

Energy billowed around her violently as she allowed her hatred to grow. The Force crackled eagerly and surged through her, begging her to bend it to her will. She wanted to show them that she no longer was theirs to control. She wanted revenge for how they had treated her! She had the power to do it. She could feel the strength building within her, augmenting with each pump of her heart.

"You are strong, my child!" she heard Plagueis say gleefully. "The darkness responds to you like none other."

Shmi nodded, suddenly feeling afraid of this awesome power at her fingertips. It was overwhelming. Never before had she experienced something so raw and so formidable.

"I want you to harness this power now," Plagueis said, his voice swirling around her in the maelstrom which she had created in the Force. "You must ground yourself. Focus your rage on something specific. On something tangible."

Shmi knew at once what Plagueis wanted of her, in spite of the vagueness of this instruction. The extent of the Jedi's crimes against her were vast, yet there was one thing which aggrieved her like no other: the life they had forced upon her son. It was entirely their fault that Anakin had spent the first nine years of his life as a slave. It was their antiquated dogmatism which had forced her to flee Coruscant. Had she felt confident that they may have been more lenient toward her, she wouldn't have had to flee in the first place. Yet she had known that there was no chance of that. They would have demanded that she terminate the pregnancy and they very well might have expelled her from the Order as well.

All these years, she had kept her fury at bay for Anakin's sake. She didn't want him to know that he could have had a better life had it not been for the Jedi. Now she realized she had been foolish. That anger could have helped Anakin. Had she placed her faith in the dark side beforehand, she could have been powerful enough to live in the open with Anakin long ago. Because now she could appreciate the true power of the Force. The pitiful training the Jedi had provided her was incomparable to the awesome power which was at her fingertips. Whereas she had once been afraid, now she felt thoroughly in control of the darkness churning around her. She paradoxically felt a complete calm and a terrible fury at the same time.

"You have done well," Plagueis' voice said from afar. "Now retreat."

"What? Why?" Shmi asked, not wanting to sacrifice this feeling of complete control which she had never before experienced.

"Retreat now."

Shmi disregarded him, relishing the sensation for a moment longer. All of a sudden, however, a jarring cold washed over her. Her concentration faltered, and her control over the billowing storm slipped. The influence she once exerted over the Force disappeared in an instant, and she was swept up in the chaos of the darkness.

"Skywalker!"

The cold was piercing, seeping through her skin and into her core. She was immobilized with an all too familiar fear. The darkness which she had once considered her ally was now jeering at her, a cacophonous cackle echoing within her skull. She knew that laugh. That was the laugh which had haunted her for a decade…

"Shmi!"

_Do you know what that makes you?_

"No!" Shmi yelled aloud as the darkness began to wrap around her neck.

_That makes you mine, Shmi Skywalker._

She felt the pain of the lightning as the darkness clawed at her flesh. Unable to recoil, Shmi merely screamed in paralyzed agony. The cackling grew louder and louder, barraging her ears relentlessly. She pleaded for the end, just like she had that night on Jakku…

Amidst the agony, Shmi felt something reach out and grab her. Tethered to this familiar yet nonetheless unidentifiable force, Shmi felt herself get dragged upward out of the darkness. The cackling and the pain receded as she held onto the metaphorical rope with all her strength.

Her eyes flew open. She was back in the crypt, lying flat on her back. Breathing heavily, Shmi struggled into a seating position, her hand pressed against the cool floor to support her quivering body. She was not the only one with labored breathing, however. Looking up, she saw that Plagueis was slumped back in his chair, his hand pressed firmly against the breathing apparatus over his mouth.

"You… you disobeyed me," Plagueis said, his voice alarmingly faint.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

"I warned you," Plagueis said. "I told you to retreat."

"I – I'm sorry," she stammered.

"No," Plagueis said, wincing as he forced himself to sit upright. "That is not good enough. This is not a game, Skywalker. You must follow my every instruction."

Shmi nodded her head rapidly, feeling tremendously guilty for what she had done to Plagueis. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I thought I could control it. I–I thought I was… powerful."

"You are powerful," Plagueis said. "Overwhelmingly so."

"Then why did I lose control like that?" she asked, shivering now as she recalled the horrible chill which was lingering still within her.

"Because you are untrained," Plagueis said with a growl. "The anguish which you have experienced in your life means that you are powerful with the darkness, but it also renders you susceptible. The demons of your past will come back to haunt you if you delve too deeply in the darkness without proper training."

Shmi swallowed hard and nodded a second time. She would have to be far more careful next time. Never again did she want to experience something like that…

"You are right to be afraid," Plagueis said. "But do not allow fear to inhibit you. In time you will learn how to control the darkness more fully."

"Yes, Father," Shmi said, her head bowed. She would have to cease disobeying him. It was clear that Plagueis knew far more about the darkness than she did. If she wanted to truly wield that awesome power which she had experienced, she would have to listen to him with the utmost obedience. Her father would show her the way of the dark side.

* * *

_Coruscant_

The next day, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin returned to Coruscant aboard Chancellor Palpatine's vessel. Qui-Gon had been uncomfortable with accepting the Chancellor's offer to provide them transit, but given they didn't have an alternative, he had gone along reluctantly. There was something about the Chancellor which unnerved Qui-Gon. He suspected that his distaste for the man was derived from nothing more than his intrinsic distrust of politicians, but something more substantial yet nonetheless thoroughly unidentifiable continued to gnaw at his conscience whenever Palpatine looked at him.

And Palpatine looked at him a lot. It was strange. It seemed as if the Chancellor reciprocated his unfounded distaste for him. Qui-Gon didn't know what he had done to bother the Chancellor, but it was undeniable that he didn't like him.

Therefore, Qui-Gon was immensely relieved to return to the Jedi Temple late that afternoon. Having asked Obi-Wan to take Anakin to his apartment in the city, Qui-Gon proceeded onward to the Council. They had called him to report on the battle that had taken place on Naboo. Of course, Qui-Gon hadn't actually partaken in the fighting, but the Council couldn't know that. He had been supposed to return to Naboo right away, but instead he had gone to Serenno to find Shmi.

Upon entering the council room for the third time that week, Qui-Gon was surprised to see that nearly the entire Council, sans Yoda and a few others, were reporting via hologram. They must have all gone off on Windu's search for Dooku.

"Master Qui-Gon," Yoda said when he entered. "Welcome."

"Thank you, Master," Qui-Gon said with a bow to the diminutive Grand Master.

"We heard about the victory on Naboo," Windu's hologram said, his voice sounding a bit staticky. "Well done."

Qui-Gon nodded appreciatively, hoping that they wouldn't ask too many questions about his involvement. To his relief, the Council didn't seem too interested. They asked a few simple questions about the battle, but that was it.

"Very well," Windu said when Qui-Gon had finished answering their questions. "You may leave, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon blinked a few times, surprised by this abrupt dismissal. "What about Anakin?" he asked. "I was under the impression that we would address his future after I returned."

"The Council already made its decision regarding the boy," Windu said coolly.

"No you didn't," Qui-Gon said. "Master Yoda said his fate would be decided later."

Windu shook his head but didn't say anything. "Too dangerous, the boy is," Yoda said definitively. "Receive training, he will not."

"I will train Anakin," Qui-Gon said defiantly. "I don't require your permission. Once Obi-Wan passes the trials, I will take him as my Padawan."

"We cannot allow you to do that, Master Jinn," Windu said. "The boy presents a grave threat to the Order."

"That is exactly why he must be trained!" Qui-Gon insisted exasperatedly. When Windu frowned, Qui-Gon took a deep breath and regained his composure. "I understand your concerns, Masters, but I beg you to reconsider," he said diplomatically. "There is nothing inherently dangerous about Anakin. He is totally innocent in spite of his… inauspicious origins."

"Fond of this boy, are you?"

Qui-Gon turned sharply to Yoda who was giving him a probing look. Qui-Gon swallowed nervously and forced himself to remain calm and keep his mind blank. "I see a boy with potential, that is all," he said in a desperate attempt to sound indifferent.

"The boy is the creation of a Sith," Windu said.

"And he is the son of a Jedi," Qui-Gon countered. Windu narrowed his eyes, yet remained silent. "He is Shmi's son, not Sidious'," he said. "This boy is full of light, not dark."

"Full of fear, the boy was," Yoda commented.

"Only because he was separated from his mother," Qui-Gon said, continuing to stare intently at Windu. "Refusing him training will only exacerbate his dark proclivities. We must accept him so that he does not turn into a threat later on. Masters, I implore you to see reason. This boy belongs in the Order."

All was silent as Windu and Qui-Gon stared at each other. Windu's expression was unreadable, but the fact that he hadn't dismissed him at once implied that something he had said had been effective. He needed Windu to see Anakin in the way he did: as Shmi's son. If he had succeeded in shifting his perception, he knew Windu would fold. In spite of his impassive disposition, Qui-Gon knew that Windu cared deeply about Shmi. If he could look at Anakin as Shmi's son, he would permit him training.

"We will make a decision on this matter upon our return to Coruscant," Windu said finally.

"Thank you, Master," Qui-Gon said, exhaling in relief. This was the best he could hope for. He could only hope that he had gotten through to Windu. "In the meantime, tell your Padawan that we will allow him to face the trials as soon as he feels he is able," Windu continued. "His performance on Naboo was truly exemplary."

"I will do so," Qui-Gon said, feeling a surge of triumph. If Windu had made up his mind about refusing Anakin training, he would have not allowed Obi-Wan to face the trials. This could only be a sign that he was thawing and perhaps even that he had made up his mind already.

Windu nodded and leaned back in his seat. "Very well. You are dismissed, Master Jinn."

"Thank you, Master," he said once again, bowing deeply to the Council. "I await your decision."

* * *

Upon departing from the Jedi Temple, Qui-Gon hastily made his way back to his apartment which was on the top level in Coruscant. It was unusual for Jedi to have their own homes outside of the Temple, but Dooku had insisted that he purchase it for him after he and Shmi had gotten married. Qui-Gon had loved his apartment with Shmi as it gave him a much needed reprieve from the Order. In recent years, however, he had spent less and less time there, partially on account to how busy he had been with missions, but primarily because the apartment reminded him too much of what he had lost.

Upon parking on the small landing pad outside of his apartment, Qui-Gon alighted from his speeder and hurried toward the front door. The apartment was far too glamorous for someone of Qui-Gon's humble temperament, and oftentimes he was embarrassed to live in such an extravagant residence. That embarrassment was only amplified now that Anakin was staying here. What would the boy think of him when he saw his lavish home? For all intents and purposes, his the apartment was as humble as it could be given the circumstances, but Anakin would no doubt interpret modest Coruscanti living standards as ostentatious compared to what he was familiar with on Tatooine.

Qui-Gon shook his head as he entered the code to his apartment. Why was he thinking so hard about something as inconsequential as this? If all went to plan and Anakin was allowed to become his Padawan, Qui-Gon would be able to show him who he really was. He wouldn't let Anakin go on thinking that he was a pretentious, superficial person.

The door slid open vertically and Qui-Gon ducked inside. Walking down the hallway, he arrived in the kitchen where he saw Obi-Wan seated at the table by himself. He was slouched back a bit as he analyzed his cuticles with a distant expression. When Qui-Gon approached, he looked up quickly and sat up straight.

"Where is Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked, looking around the otherwise empty kitchen.

"He got bored," Obi-Wan said. "He went exploring, I think." Qui-Gon frowned at his Padawan, displeased by his thoroughly inadequate babysitting abilities. "How did your meeting with the Council go?" Obi-Wan asked, evidently oblivious to his master's irritation with him.

"Well," Qui-Gon said as he sat down across from Obi-Wan. "Extremely well, I think. I hope I've done enough to convince them to allow me to train Anakin."

Obi-Wan nodded and looked away, conflict etched across his face. "That is good news," he said unconvincingly.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. In time, Obi-Wan would get over his grudge of Anakin. Just because Anakin was his son and soon to be his Padawan didn't mean that Obi-Wan was any less important to him. He had told Obi-Wan this already and all he could do now was prove it to him.

"The Council told me to inform you that they believe you are ready to face the trials," he said instead.

Obi-Wan looked back to him with wide eyes. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes, really," Qui-Gon said with a warm smile. "You will do well, Obi-Wan. You deserve this."

Obi-Wan reciprocated his smile, yet not without a hint of nervousness. "I hope so," he said as he chewed his lip. Qui-Gon's smile broadened at the sight. He was deeply familiar with that gesture. He had once jested to Shmi that she would one day bite off her lower lip if she continued to doubt herself. Obi-Wan was much like her in that way. Both were unjustly unconfident in their abilities. Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan had nothing to be nervous about with the trials. He was more than ready to become a full-fledged Jedi Knight.

"You should go back to the Temple," Qui-Gon said. "You need some rest."

Obi-Wan nodded readily and stood up from his seat. "I really do," he said with a wan smile. "It's been a hectic week to say the least.

"I know it," Qui-Gon said with a sigh.

"Will Anakin, er… will he be staying with you?" Obi-Wan asked awkwardly.

"He will," Qui-Gon affirmed. "Until the Jedi admit him, he will stay with me."

Obi-Wan nodded again. "You don't think it will… arouse suspicions?" he asked quietly.

Qui-Gon shook his head as he pushed his chair out and stood up as well. "Leave the secret keeping to me," he said with a wink as he walked around the table toward Obi-Wan. "I am far more experienced and adept at it than you."

"I believe it," Obi-Wan said with a snort.

Qui-Gon sighed and gave Obi-Wan a paternal pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you out," he said after a brief silence.

"That's alright," Obi-Wan said. "You should talk to Anakin."

Qui-Gon bobbed his head and removed his hand from Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You're right, I should," he said heavily. Brow furrowed, Qui-Gon stepped away from Obi-Wan, allowing him access out of the kitchen. "I'll see you tomorrow, Obi-Wan," he said.

"Good night, Master," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon stood in place for a few minutes after Obi-Wan had gone. He was dreading this conversation, but it had to be done. It was time for Anakin to know the truth. The full truth.

Building up his resolve, Qui-Gon forced himself to walk out of the kitchen. Following Anakin's familiar Force presence, Qui-Gon found himself walking toward his bedroom. The door was hanging open ajar. Pausing outside, Qui-Gon listened for any sign of what Anakin was doing in there. Realizing that he was procrastinating, Qui-Gon bit his tongue and pushed the door open gently.

"Anakin?" he asked as the door creaked loudly. He received no response. Taking a step inside, he saw him. He was seated on the left side of the bed, his little feet dangling a few inches off the ground. His head was drooped downward and he made no indication that he had heard Qui-Gon enter the room.

"Anakin?" he said again, somewhat concerned by the lack of reaction his arrival had generated.

This time Anakin looked up and spun his head to meet Qui-Gon's inquisitive gaze. "I'm sorry," he said at once, jumping off the bed. "I shouldn't have –"

"It's alright," Qui-Gon said, holding his hand up to stop Anakin from apologizing. "Are you tired?"

Anakin shook his head and looked back at the imprint he had made on the bed. "No, it's just… I feel something."

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow curiously as he walked over toward Anakin. "What do you mean by that?" he asked as he squatted down so that he was at Anakin's eye level.

Anakin looked at him straight in the eyes, his bright blue eyes looking startlingly similar to his own. "My mother," he said softly. "She's been here before, hasn't she?"

Qui-Gon's eyes widened in surprise. "You can sense her?" he asked incredulously. Shmi hadn't lived here in over ten years. It was truly remarkable that Anakin could detect her Force presence still lingering in her former home when Qui-Gon himself could no longer. The boy truly was attuned to the Force like few other despite his age. Perhaps only Shmi's natural powers could compare.

"I think so," Anakin said unconfidently. "What do you mean by sense?"

Qui-Gon hesitated, realizing that this was the first lesson Anakin was going to receive about the Force. He didn't want to mess it up. "Take a seat," he said, patting the bed with his left hand.

"Are you sure –"

"Anakin. Sit," Qui-Gon said sternly. Anakin complied and jumped back onto the bed, his hand clasped together tightly in his lap. "Now tell me, what is it that you feel?" he asked.

Anakin pursed his lips and looked down at his hands. "I can't really explain it," he mumbled.

"Try to," Qui-Gon said, taking a step back so that he wasn't looming over Anakin.

Anakin shrugged and craned his neck to look back up at him. "When Obi-Wan took me here, it felt like I was… home," he said. "It felt like… like my mom was with me again."

Qui-Gon smiled dolefully at this. With a sigh, he sat down next to Anakin on the bed. "You are right to feel that way, Ani," he told him. "You see, every person emits a distinct and unique signature into the Force. If you are close enough to a person, you can identify their signatures."

"So you can know where they've been?" Anakin asked.

"This, and so much more," Qui-Gon said, pleased with how well Anakin was following him. This was an abstract concept, yet Anakin seemed to be understanding him without much difficulty. "You see, the Force is the medium through which our emotions traverse," Qui-Gon explained. "If you happen to be Force-sensitive and are trained in the ways of the Force, you can sense what a person is feeling and thinking without words."

"So you can read minds?" Anakin asked, awe-struck.

"Not exactly," Qui-Gon said. "But you can detect a person's emotions through the Force."

Anakin nodded slowly and twiddled his thumbs absently. "I think I can do that," he said. "I could always tell when my mom was sad or frustrated."

"And what about when she was happy?" Qui-Gon asked.

"She wasn't happy very much," Anakin said with a frown. "Slaves aren't allowed to be happy." Qui-Gon closed his eyes and turned away, deeply saddened by how casually Anakin had disclosed this depressing information. "I can sense your feelings too," Anakin said unexpectedly.

"You can?" Qui-Gon asked, surprised. Anakin nodded his head enthusiastically, clearly eager to impress. "Alright then," Qui-Gon said. "What am I feeling now?"

"You're sad," Anakin said at once. "You're sad that my mom wasn't ever happy. Why is that? Why do you care about her so much?"

Qui-Gon blinked furiously, stunned by the strength of Anakin's connection with him through the Force. The clarity of which he could discern his emotions was surely unprecedented for someone his age. He wasn't sure whether he should be afraid or amazed by Anakin's powers.

Looking into Anakin's questioning eyes, Qui-Gon inhaled deeply and rotated so that he was facing Anakin directly. Now was the time to tell him. "Remember how I told you your mother was once a Jedi Knight?" Qui-Gon said. Anakin nodded again. "Well she and I knew each other when we were both at the Temple."

"You did?" Anakin asked incredulously. "But you acted like you were strangers back on Tatooine."

"I only did that to preserve your mother's secret," Qui-Gon said. "I knew that she didn't want you or the others to know the truth." Anakin scrunched his forehead in puzzlement, yet he didn't say anything so Qui-Gon continued. "While we were at the Temple, your mother and I… we became quite close."

"Close?" Anakin repeated.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes," he said in a strained voice. "Anakin, your mother and I… we were married." Anakin said nothing for a long while, and Qui-Gon irrationally feared that he somehow hadn't heard him.

"You were married?" he finally said in a dumbfounded voice. "I… I don't understand."

"Your mother and I loved each other," Qui-Gon said, placing a tentative hand on Anakin's knobby knee. "The code forbade us from being together openly, however."

"What code?" Anakin asked.

"The Jedi Order has a code which all Jedi are supposed to abide by," Qui-Gon explained. "One of the most important and stringent of these rules is that Jedi are not allowed to form attachments with others. This means that marriage is forbidden."

Anakin turned away from him and scratched his temple in obvious confusion. "But why weren't you with her?" he asked in a small voice.

Qui-Gon inhaled sharply as the pivotal moment arrived. Would Anakin hate him for what had happened? He could explain himself all he wanted, but there was nothing he could do if Anakin decided to blame him for everything. "When your mother became pregnant with you, she got scared and ran away," Qui-Gon began cautiously. "You see, if the Jedi found out what had happened, they would have forced her to get an abortion and expel her from the Order. She made a decision not to tell me. As a result, I didn't know where she had ran to. I tried to find her for over a decade, but I had no luck until I happened upon you on Tatooine."

"But why didn't she tell you? If she was pregnant, wouldn't that mean that…" Anakin's eyes grew wide as he trailed off. Looking up at him, his mouth fell open as Qui-Gon could see him putting the pieces together. "You're not my father, are you?" he asked. "Otherwise she would have told you and you would have come with us."

Qui-Gon met Anakin's gaze with unblinking resolve. "That was what she thought at the time," Qui-Gon said. "She thought that you had been spawned by a Sith Lord by the name of Darth Sidious. She was terrified and wasn't thinking straight. She figured that it was safest not to tell me what had happened because she didn't want me to get in trouble with the Jedi."

"So that's what he meant," Anakin said.

"That's what who meant?"

"Master Windu," Anakin elaborated. "He said I was the creation of the Sith."

"That is what the Jedi think, yes," Qui-Gon said.

"What does that mean?" Anakin asked. "Is that… bad?"

"No, it is not bad," Qui-Gon insisted forcefully. "The Jedi fear it only because they don't understand it. But that isn't the truth, anyway. You are not the creation of the Sith."

"I'm not?" Anakin said, clearly confused by this point. "Then what am I?"

"Your mother was mistaken," Qui-Gon said. He paused, thinking of a way to phrase this. Anakin was certainly a bright boy, but nevertheless Qui-Gon had no doubt that Anakin was too young to understand what had happened to his mother on Jakku. "The Jedi Council sent your mother on a mission ten years ago," he began, deliberately speaking slowly as he continued to consider how best to proceed. "There had been a disturbance in the Force and they wanted her to uncover its source. When she arrived at the location of the disturbance, on Jakku, however, she was captured and tortured by Sidious."

"She was tortured?" Anakin exclaimed, aghast.

"I'm afraid it's worse than that," Qui-Gon said plaintively. "Sidious let her escape for some reason and soon after she returned to Coruscant, she found out that she was pregnant. I don't know the specifics of what Sidious did to her, nor do I ever want to, but Shmi figured that Sidious had… used the Force somehow to make her pregnant."

Anakin made a face and looked away, utterly appalled. "That's horrible," he said. Anakin blinked a few times and then looked back at Qui-Gon. "But you said she was mistaken. What do you mean?"

Qui-Gon pursed his lips and didn't answer for a moment as he contemplated Anakin's face. "She didn't know that when she went Jakku, she was already pregnant," he said.

"She was already pregnant? But I thought…" Anakin trailed off and Qui-Gon saw the realization dawn in his eyes which widened to comical proportions.

"I am your father, Anakin," Qui-Gon said, his voice cracking when he said his son's name.

All was still. Qui-Gon held his breath as Anakin stared back at him with an expression of utter astonishment. After half a minute, Anakin blinked a few times and looked down. "I… I know," he said finally. "Somehow, I've always known."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and took a deep, shaky breath. "I am so sorry, Anakin," he said in a tremulous voice. "Had I known, I never would have let your mother run away. I feel so horrible that I wasn't there for you. I should have –"

Qui-Gon stopped talking abruptly when Anakin leaned toward him and hugged him tight. All the oxygen was expelled from his lungs, on account of both the strength of the hug and the surprise that Anakin had reacted in the way he did. Did this mean he didn't hate him?

Qui-Gon tentatively reciprocated the hug and patted Anakin on the back a bit woodenly. After a minute, Anakin pulled away and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I always knew I had a father," he said quietly. "Mom always told me I didn't have one, but I knew better."

"I want to be there for you, Ani," Qui-Gon said, his own voice sounding thick with emotion. "I'll never leave you again, I promise." Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment before reaching out with his index finger and brushing away a stray tear from Anakin's cheek. All the while, Anakin looked up at him with wide, awe-filled eyes. "Are you angry with me?" Qui-Gon asked nervously.

"Why would I be angry?" Anakin asked, flummoxed by this question.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to explain himself, but thought better of it. Anakin wasn't angry with him. That was all he needed to know. Qui-Gon smiled thinly and reached out with his hand a second time, this time being bold enough to cup Anakin's pudgy cheek. "Thank you," he said. "My son," he added, his eyes watering with tears as Anakin returned the smile. "My son," he said again.

* * *

Darth Sidious peered out the window of his senate office with a discontented scowl as he watched the unflagging late afternoon traffic zoom by. He enjoyed (as much as someone like Sidious could enjoy anything, that is) watching the incessant stream of speeders rush by his window. It was organized chaos, just the way he liked things. This afternoon, however, he derived no such satisfaction from the panoramic view.

All things considered, he had no reason to be angry, but something felt amiss nonetheless. While he hadn't been surprised that Maul had not returned to him after failing to retrieve the boy, he was still disappointed by the incompetence of his former apprentice. Now he would have to play the long game. The boy would be his regardless, but it would be much more difficult to pry him away from the Jedi now that they had him. He would have to sow discord between young Skywalker and the Order; slowly, methodically, patiently, he would ensnare the boy and turn him against the Order and into his personal weapon.

Sidious knew he was more than up to the task, but there was one extraneous factor which continued to gnaw at him. It vexed him that he hadn't been able to foresee this one snag in his grand plan…

"_Master? You called for me?"_

Sidious spun around in his chair to see a miniature version of his new apprentice's hologram standing at attention on his desk.

"Ah, Lord Tyranus," Sidious said. "Yes, I wish to speak to you about something."

"_What would that be, Master?_" Tyranus asked.

"We have a new enemy," Sidious said with a snarl. "He must be dealt with before we can proceed with our plans."

"_Who is that, Master?_"

"Qui-Gon Jinn," Sidious said, his mouth twitching with distaste for the man who had seized the boy from his clutches. "He must be eliminated." Tyranus' eyes widened for a fraction of a moment, a flicker of fear passing his aged face. "Is that a problem for you, Lord Tyranus?" Sidious asked.

"_Of course not,_" Tyranus said hastily. "_He means nothing to me_."

"Good," Sidious said lowly. In spite of his apprentice's assurances, Sidious was far from convinced. He could sense Tyranus' ambivalence towards the prospect of having to confront his former Padawan. He would have to address this insufficiency later.

"_Do you want me to kill him?_" Tyranus asked, doing an admirable job of keeping his tone indifferent.

Sidous smirked and shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "He can still be useful to us."

"_Useful, my lord?_" Tyranus asked.

"Oh yes," Sidious said with a sickly half-smile. "In time, I believe Jinn will serve our purposes nicely."

"_Very well, Master_," Tyranus said with a bow of his head.

"Skywalker will be mine," Sidious mused as he interlaced his spindly fingers together in front of his chin. "Everything will proceed as I have foreseen."


	10. Frustration

_Ten years later_

_22 BBY – Coruscant_

Qui-Gon had just finished making breakfast when he heard the doorbell sound. "Come in!" he yelled as he picked up the two plates and made his way over toward the kitchen table. The front door opened and Qui-Gon heard the sound of footsteps approaching as he set the plates down.

"Morning, Dad."

Qui-Gon looked up from the table to see his son standing in the hallway, his hands on his hips. The corner of Qui-Gon's lip curled upward as he contemplated how handsome he looked in those long, brown Jedi robes.

"Good morning," he said. "How was the traffic?"

"Terrible as always," Anakin said as he strode forward and took a seat at the table. "I hate having to live at the Temple. I'd much rather be here."

Qui-Gon smiled as he sat down as well across from Anakin. He was aware how unorthodox it would seem for a teenage son to actually want to spend more time with his father, but their relationship was far from conventional. Nobody – with the exception of Obi-Wan – knew about their relation. Officially, Anakin was solely his Padawan learner and nothing more. As a consequence, Anakin hadn't ever been able to live with him. He was forced to stay in the Temple with the other Padawans and Knights who weren't fortunate enough to have their own place.

Anakin pushed his Padawan braid aside as he picked up a fork and licked his lips. "I'm famished," he said as he eyed his eggs with a ravenous expression.

Qui-Gon snorted in amusement as he watched Anakin dig in. "Aren't you always," he said with a shake of his head. "Honestly, I don't understand how you can eat so much and still look like a stick."

Anakin looked up from his breakfast, indignation etched across his face. "I am not a stick!" he insisted. "Besides, I'm still growing. I need to eat as much as I can."

Qui-Gon chortled as he leaned forward, his elbows rested on either side of his plate. Anakin was certainly right about that. He had been slow to grow, but once he had he had shot up at an alarming rate. Qui-Gon reminisced for the days when he could ruffle his son's hair without hardly raising his hands from his sides. Now Anakin was nearly as tall as he was, much to Qui-Gon's chagrin. He had hoped that Shmi's genes would have inhibited Anakin's growth, but alas no. It seemed he had taken after his father in this respect.

His smile faded at the thought of his son's mother. He hadn't heard from Shmi in ten whole years. As much as he tried to move on, not a day went by without him thinking about her. What was she up to serving as that mysterious man's apprentice? She had told him that she had to pledge herself to him in order to defeat Sidious, but nothing had seemed to have come from that. Was she dead? On the run? In hiding? Qui-Gon hadn't the faintest idea, and he suspected that he never would.

She told him that she was leaving to protect Anakin and to destroy Sidious. Did that not mean that someday she would return to him? If Sidious was ever defeated, would they finally be able to live together as a family? Qui-Gon knew better than to get his hopes up, however. In the twenty years since the Jedi Order discovered that the Sith had returned, they had made no progress towards defeating them. The best hunch the Council had was that Dooku was the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, although Qui-Gon was certain that that was not the case. The Council continued to insist that everything was fine, of course, but they couldn't deny that the darkness was on the rise. It was growing like a shadow over the galaxy and the Jedi hadn't the faintest idea how to combat it. The rising tensions between the Republic and the Separatists suggested that an all-out galactic war was on the horizon, and Qui-Gon had no doubt that the Sith were at least partially responsible for the impending conflagration.

"Dad?"

Qui-Gon blinked a few times to see Anakin looking at him with a quizzical expression. "Huh?" he said dumbly.

"You okay over there?"

Qui-Gon picked his elbows off the table and inhaled deeply. It seemed he had been holding his breath for the past minute while he had been lost in thought. "Yes, of course," he said faintly. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"Well, are you going to eat that?"

Qui-Gon looked down at his untouched breakfast and then over toward Anakin's spotless plate. "You have it," Qui-Gon said, pushing the plate across the table toward Anakin. "I don't have much of an appetite."

Anakin was about to say something else when a soft buzzing sound caused them both to look away. "What's that?" Anakin asked.

"It's probably just my comlink," Qui-Gon said with a sigh as he stood up. "I left it in my room. Be right back."

Qui-Gon felt Anakin's eyes on his back as he walked out of the kitchen toward his bedroom. He could tell that Anakin was concerned about him, and for good reason. He had become increasingly sullen and reticent over the past few weeks. Perhaps his subconscious was reminding him that the last time Shmi had disappeared, he had found her after ten years practically on the dot. Now as that anniversary came around for a second time, he knew that he would have no such luck this time.

The last time Shmi had disappeared, Qui-Gon had searched for her day in and day out. This time around, however, Qui-Gon hadn't bothered to expend his energy in what he knew to be a pointless pursuit. Qui-Gon knew that Shmi didn't actually want to be found. As a consequence, he figured that the only way he would ever see Shmi again was if she came for him, and he knew that would only happen once Sidious was dead. It seemed highly unlikely that either of these things would happen within the fortnight. In fact, he was highly dubious that they would ever happen at all.

Whereas he had once been a generally optimistic and upbeat man, the years of hardship and loss had taken its toll on him, both physically and mentally. His hair and beard were fully grey by now, and the flecks of silver around his chin made him look ten years older than he really was. His lined and weary face was emblematic of the cynical, broken man that he had become. The solely vibrant feature of his otherwise grim countenance were his eyes, which were still a piercing blue much like Anakin's. It was fitting that they share this feature. After all, the only thing that kept him going and had enabled him to persevere over the past ten years was his son. Or perhaps his sons, plural, that is. Anakin and Obi-Wan were the two shining accomplishments in his otherwise woeful life.

The renewed vibration of his comlink roused him from his dreary ruminations. Shaking his head vigorously so as to clear his muddled mind, Qui-Gon pushed the door to his bedroom open and made his way to his end table. Scooping up the comlink, Qui-Gon sat down on his bed and activated the device.

"Hello?" he said.

"_Master Jinn, good morning,_" an unfamiliar voice greeted.

"To whom am I speaking?" Qui-Gon asked with a frown.

"_This is Mas Amedda, Vice Chair of the Senate._"

Qui-Gon blinked a few times in surprise as he sat up straighter in spite of the fact that Amedda couldn't actually see him. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Senator?" he asked.

"_I am calling to inform you that Chancellor Palpatine has requested your presence,_" Amedda said. "_He expects you in his office at eleven hundred hours._"

Surprised, Qui-Gon took a few moments before responding. The Chancellor wanted to see him? Whatever for? He was a Jedi Master, sure, but he wasn't a member of the Council. It was highly unorthodox for a politician to request his presence directly without conferring with the Council first, and it was even more unusual that the Chancellor himself was the one requesting him.

"I will be there," Qui-Gon said.

"_Very good,_" Amedda said before cutting off the feed. Qui-Gon stared down at the comlink for a moment longer before setting the device aside and standing up. He wondered if this summoning had anything to do with Dooku. After all, it was public knowledge that he had been Dooku's Padawan. Now that Dooku was renowned for being the leader of the Separatists, perhaps the Chancellor wanted his opinion on how best to deal with him.

If that was indeed the case, Qui-Gon doubted he could be of much help to the Chancellor. He hadn't spoken to Dooku in ten years, having last seen him on Serenno when Shmi had made her fateful decision to leave him.

When he returned to the kitchen, Anakin looked up at him with an expectant expression, two empty plates stacked on top of each other in front of him. "Who was it?" he asked.

"Chancellor Palpatine's office," Qui-Gon said as he walked over toward the table and picked up the plates. "He's requested to talk to me."

"Really?" Anakin said. "That's odd. Any idea why?"

Qui-Gon shrugged as he set the plates down in the sink and turned the faucet on. "I'm not sure," he said, speaking over the sound of the water. "It might have something to do with Dooku."

From behind him, he heard Anakin stand up and push his chair in. "Can I come with you?" he asked eagerly.

Qui-Gon turned off the faucet and turned around to look at him. "I don't think so," he said. "The Chancellor requested me specifically."

Anakin's face dropped. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind," he said. "Chancellor Palpatine is a friend."

Qui-Gon crossed his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against the counter. He knew that Anakin and the Chancellor were well acquainted, close even. It made sense, of course. Palpatine felt eternally grateful toward Anakin for his role in the liberation of his home world of Naboo ten years ago. Nevertheless, Qui-Gon felt uneasy about allowing Anakin to get too close to the Chancellor. His distaste for the man had persisted over the years, although he still couldn't identify a specific reason why.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," Qui-Gon said. "I think it's best I go alone. I will give the Chancellor your regards."

Anakin frowned but he didn't object. He was never one to pursue something after Qui-Gon had made himself clear. That character trait was no doubt a consequence of being raised by Shmi for the first half of his life. Whereas Qui-Gon had been an extremely lenient and lax parent, Shmi had been the opposite. From the little he had seen of their interaction on Tatooine, he knew that Shmi had been a strict mother to Anakin. Loving, yes, but strict as well.

"Why don't you meet up with Obi-Wan this morning?" Qui-Gon suggested. "I heard he just got back from Ansion."

Anakin's expression brightened up a bit at this proposition. He was glad that Anakin and Obi-Wan got along so well. Obi-Wan had initially resented Anakin who in turn reciprocated that frosty demeanor. As they both matured, however, they had fortunately gotten past their petty sibling rivalry. Now they seemed to be good friends, much to Qui-Gon's delight.

"Alright," Anakin said. "We should probably leave now, though. It will take a while to get to the Senate building."

"You're right," Qui-Gon said as he pushed off the counter and clapped his hands together. "Let me just get my lightsaber."

* * *

An hour later, Anakin dropped Qui-Gon off at the Senate building and drove off to the Temple to meet up with Obi-Wan. Fearing he might be late, Qui-Gon rushed into the Senate and made his way to the elevator. He tapped his foot nervously on the ground as the elevator began to ascend, taking him to the top floor. Once again, he wondered what it could be that the Chancellor wanted from him. Was it possible that it had something to do with Anakin? Palpatine did seem to be quite interested in his son, after all.

The elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors slid open. Qui-Gon straightened his robes and marched out of the elevator purposely. He walked down the red carpeted hallway toward the Chancellor's office, his trusty lightsaber bouncing against his thigh reassuringly. He was stopped by a receptionist just outside the Chancellor's office and upon identifying himself, the alien behind the desk told him to walk on in.

The wide doors of the Chancellor's office slid open as he approached, revealing a sizable delegation. Qui-Gon hesitated, not having expected so many people. He had been under the impression the Chancellor had wanted to speak to him privately. Everyone turned to look at him as he froze awkwardly in the doorway. Directly in front of him was an agglomeration of senators and other politicians. Looking beyond them up a small set of stairs by the Chancellor's desk, Qui-Gon saw several members of the Jedi Council as well.

"Ah, Master Jinn. Your timing is exquisite, I must say."

Qui-Gon looked to his right to see Chancellor Palpatine in the distance, his form appearing somewhat hazy and tenebrous as the morning sunlight flooded in through the enormous window behind him.

"What are you doing here, Jinn?" Windu asked, a perpetual frown imprinted on his face.

"The Chancellor requested an audience with me," Qui-Gon said stiffly to Windu. Although he was grateful toward the great Jedi leader for granting him permission to train Anakin, their relationship hadn't improved much over the past ten years. If anything, it seemed as if Windu trusted him even less than he had before, if that was even possible. His affiliation with Dooku had shaken the Jedi Order's already fragile belief in him.

"Is this true?" Windu asked Palpatine.

"Yes, of course," Palpatine said breezily as he walked over toward him. "I was hoping Master Jinn would be able to do something for me."

"What would that be, Chancellor?" Qui-Gon asked curiously.

"You do remember Senator Amidala, do you not?" Palpatine asked, gesturing to someone in front of him. Qui-Gon followed the Chancellor's hand and much to his surprise, there she was: Padmé Amidala. He hadn't seen much less thought about the young queen since they had departed Theed ten years ago.

"Of course," Qui-Gon said with a bow. "It is an honor, your Majesty."

The corner of Amidala's mouth twitched in amusement. "There is no need to bow, Master," she said. "I am no longer royalty."

"You will always be royalty to me, Senator," Palpatine said with suave elegance. "Because of that, I would like to humbly request that Master Jinn provide you with protection while you are here on Coruscant."

Amidala frowned and glanced at Qui-Gon. "Chancellor Palpatine, if I may comment, I don't think the situation is –"

"Is that serious?" Palpatine provided. "No, but I do, Senator," he said, his voice laced with concern. "I realize all too well that additional security might be disruptive for you, but that is why I propose that you be placed under the protection of someone you're familiar with, like Master Jinn."

Amidala bristled with indignation yet didn't object. It was clear that she didn't appreciate being treated like a juvenile by the Chancellor, but Qui-Gon could sense her fear regardless. He wasn't privy to the nature of the threat against her, but he reckoned it was significant. After all, it wasn't common for the Chancellor to interfere in matters of personal security of senators, even if they happened to hail from his home planet of Naboo.

"Chancellor Palpatine, with all due respect, the Council will make its own decision on this matter," Windu said.

"I understand," Palpatine said with a wave of his hand. "I merely assumed that Master Jinn would be the perfect choice for this assignment, given his history with Senator Amidala."

Windu and Yoda glanced at each other for a moment, communicating silently as they were so adept at doing. "The Council will consider this request," Windu said, turning back toward the Chancellor. "In the meantime, I can have Master Kenobi serve the position temporarily."

Qui-Gon's face twitched but he forced himself to remain silent. It was outrageous how spiteful Windu could be. It was clear that he was only rejecting the Chancellor's request due to his personal distrust for Qui-Gon.

"Do it for me, my lady, please," Palpatine supplicated Amidala. "The thought of losing you…" He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, "…is unbearable," he concluded.

Amidala looked back at Palpatine for a moment longer before nodding. "I will have Obi-Wan report to you immediately, my lady," Windu told her.

"Thank you, Master Windu," she said.

With this, the Jedi Masters and the delegation of senators began to file out of the office. With one last glance toward Amidala who was looking at him with a curious expression, Qui-Gon spun around and rushed after Windu.

"Master Windu, a word," he said, forcing himself to remain cordial.

"Yes?" Windu said simply as Qui-Gon fell into step with him.

"I humbly request that you reconsider," he said as they made their way down the hallway slowly.

Windu shook his head and stopped walking. "I will not allow you to serve the Senator in this capacity," Windu said, turning to face him directly. "We have reason to believe that Count Dooku is behind these assassination attempts."

Qui-Gon bit his tongue angrily and clenched his fists underneath his robes. "Master please, I remind you that I have no affiliation with Dooku whatsoever," he said for what felt like the dozenth time. "I haven't spoken to him in over ten years."

Windu looked away from him and frowned. "Even so, it would be improper for the Council to give you this assignment."

"At least allow me to assist Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon pleaded. He wasn't sure why he was so insistent upon earning this assignment, if he was being honest. Perhaps it was as simple as a matter of pride. The Chancellor himself had requested this for him! Who was Windu to suggest otherwise? "We work well together, you know that. Besides, he doesn't have a Padawan to support him like I do. He will need my help"

Windu exhaled loudly and looked back at him. "Very well," he said begrudgingly. "You may go with Obi-Wan, but I want it to be clear that you are serving in a solely advisory position. Obi-Wan is the one in charge of the Senator's protection. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon said at once, knowing that it was unwise to fight Windu on this technicality. "And what about Anakin? Can he assist as well?"

"Of course," Windu said as he turned to resume walking. "Why don't you find your Padawan and I will contact Obi-Wan."

"No need, Master," Qui-Gon said. "They are together at the moment. I will inform them as soon as I return to the Temple."

"Very good," Windu said. "I expect you to report to Senator Amidala's residence as soon as you are able."

* * *

A little over half an hour later, Qui-Gon had collected his two protégés and informed them of the nature of their assignment. Obi-Wan received the instructions with cool, professional indifference. Anakin, on the other hand, seemed to be quite flustered by the news, although Qui-Gon wasn't sure why. As they stood three abreast in the elevator on the way up to Amidala's apartment, Qui-Gon watched Anakin out of the corner of his eye. His young Padawan was fidgeting nervously, continually straightening out his robes and messing with his hair.

Obi-Wan, who was standing on Qui-Gon's other side, leaned forward a bit to see around his former master and gave Anakin a quizzical look. "What's wrong with you?" he asked in the dismissive tone of an older brother.

"Huh? Nothing," Anakin said all too quickly as he dropped his hands to his sides.

"You're sweating," Obi-Wan observed with a subtle smirk.

"Just relax, Anakin," Qui-Gon instructed. "Take a deep breath."

Anakin did as he said, inhaling deeply as he turned to look at him and Obi-Wan. "I haven't seen her in ten years, Master," he said.

Qui-Gon contemplated his son's face for a moment as it suddenly dawned upon him why Anakin was so on edge. He recognized this expression all too well; he had seen it in his own reflection when he had first fallen in love with Shmi and he had seen it in Obi-Wan when he had begun to develop feelings for Satine. But Anakin barely even knew Amidala! As he had just said, the two hadn't seen nor talked to each other in a decade.

_Just like you and Shmi, _Qui-Gon thought to himself glumly.

Qui-Gon forced himself to dispel of these thoughts with a shake of his head as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Obi-Wan exited the elevator first, followed by Anakin, with Qui-Gon taking up the rear. As the doors closed behind him, Qui-Gon looked up to see another familiar face whom he hadn't seen in ten years: Jar Jar Binks.

The Gungan's face lit up as he saw the three of them approaching. "Obi?" he said when he saw Obi-Wan at the front. "Obi!" Qui-Gon sidestepped Anakin to get a better view as the buoyant Gungan rushed toward Obi-Wan and shook his hand vigorously. Qui-Gon smiled broadly as he watched a flustered Obi-Wan return the Gungan's exuberant greeting. "Mesa so excited to seein' yousa!" Jar Jar said jubilantly.

"Good to see you again, Jar Jar," Obi-Wan managed to say.

Jar Jar spun around, seemingly too excited to spare any time greeting Anakin and himself. The trio followed the lumbering Gungan down the hallway and into the apartment. All the while, Qui-Gon could sense Anakin's anxiety heightening with each step.

"Senator Padmé!" Jar Jar exclaimed when they reached a spacious, blue-carpeted living room. "Diese palos here! Lookie lookie, Senator. Diese Jedi arrivin'."

Across the room standing on a patio stood the Senator accompanied by a woman who Qui-Gon assumed was her handmaiden and a swarthy man with an eyepatch over his left eye. Amidala turned away from the patio window and strode over toward them with a smile.

Obi-Wan bowed as she approached, whereas Anakin and Qui-Gon remained stationary; Qui-Gon because Amidala had already told him not to bow to her and Anakin because he seemed to be immobilized with nervousness. "It's a great pleasure to see you again, my lady," Obi-Wan said with genuine warmth as he stood back up straight and extended his hand.

"It has been far too long, Master Kenobi," Amidala said, reciprocating Obi-Wan's amiability as she shook his hand. Looking behind Obi-Wan, her eyes met Qui-Gon's. "Master Jinn," she said in a somewhat less genial tone than how she had greeted Obi-Wan. "I wish we could be meeting under more auspicious circumstances."

"Likewise, Senator," Qui-Gon said as he stepped forward to accept her outstretched hand. Upon releasing her hand, Qui-Gon looked behind him and beckoned Anakin forward. Wide-eyed, Anakin took a step forward so that he was standing next to his father.

"Ani?" Amidala said as she looked him over. "My goodness, you've grown!"

"So have you, grown more beautiful I mean," Anakin blurted out. "Uh… for a Senator, I mean," he added with as much grace as a dying Tauntaun.

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to slap his son on the back of the head. What did he think he was doing? He was almost more offended by how horribly awkward Anakin was being than he was by the fact that he was blatantly hitting on a person they were supposed to be protecting. No doubt, he had inherited his social anxiety from his mother because Qui-Gon was sure that he had never acted so awkwardly when he had first tried flirting with Shmi.

If Amidala was taken aback by Anakin's forwardness, she did a good job of masking it. Instead, she smiled broadly and shook her head a bit, seemingly still marveling at how much Anakin had changed in the past ten years. "Oh Ani, you'll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine," she said as she turned away from them and walked toward a couch in the center of the room.

Qui-Gon heard Obi-Wan stifle a laugh as Anakin's face fell at this comment. Smirking, Qui-Gon gently pushed Anakin on the back to get him to move toward the opposite couch.

"Our presence will be invisible here, my lady, I assure you," Obi-Wan said as they walked over toward the seating area. The three Jedi sat down on the yellow sofa, a red-faced Anakin sandwiched in between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Upon sitting down, Qui-Gon picked up a blue pillow from behind him and placed it on his lap.

"I'm Captain Typho of her Majesty's security forces," the one-eyed man said once everyone save himself was seated. "Queen Jamillia has been informed of your assignment. I am grateful you are here, Masters. The situation is more dangerous than the Senator will admit."

"I don't need more security, I need answers," Amidala said to the three of them. "I want to know who's trying to kill me."

"We're here to protect you, Senator. Not to start an investigation," Obi-Wan said.

"We will find out who's trying to kill you, Padmé," Anakin said, completely contradicting Obi-Wan's previous statement. "I promise you," he added seriously.

"We will not exceed our mandate, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, turning to face Anakin directly.

Anakin turned to Qui-Gon, perhaps seeking his support, yet when Qui-Gon said nothing he looked back at Obi-Wan. "I mean in the interest of protecting her, Master, of course."

"Anakin, please," Obi-Wan bemoaned exasperatedly.

"I concur with Anakin," Qui-Gon said, inserting himself into the conversation. "The Senator will not be safe until her attacker's identity is revealed."

Obi-Wan looked away from Anakin toward Qui-Gon with a discontented scowl. "Master, I will remind you that I am in charge of this assignment, not you," he said.

"Well you shouldn't be," Anakin interjected.

"Excuse me?" Obi-Wan asked, caught off guard by the hostility in Anakin's voice.

"I mean no disrespect, Master, but I think it is wrong for the Council to grant you command over this assignment when Master Jinn is more experienced than you," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan's nostrils flared angrily and he was no doubt about to unload on Anakin when Qui-Gon intervened. "Obi-Wan and I share the same rank, Anakin," he said hastily. "The Council means no disrespect by this arrangement." Anakin opened his mouth to object, but Qui-Gon stopped him with a stern look. While he privately agreed with Anakin and was in fact quite touched that Anakin was standing up for him, this was neither the time nor the place to be conducting this conversation.

Amidala glanced between Qui-Gon and Anakin with a curious expression before returning her attention to the still-seething Obi-Wan. "Perhaps with merely your presence, the mysteries surrounding this threat will be revealed," she said. "Now if you will excuse me, I will retire."

As Amidala stood up, the three Jedi plus Jar Jar and the handmaiden followed her suit. Without a second glance toward them, Amidala strode out of the room with regal elegance. Anakin watched her depart, oblivious to Qui-Gon's scrutiny of his behavior.

"Well, I know I feel a lot better about having you here," Typho said, causing Qui-Gon to divert his attention away from Anakin. "I'll have an officer on every floor and I'll be at the command center downstairs." Obi-Wan nodded to the Captain who reciprocated the gesture before turning around to leave.

"Mesa bustin' wit happiness seein' yousa again, Ani," Qui-Gon heard Jar Jar say from behind him.

Qui-Gon spun back around to see Anakin still staring in the direction where Amidala had gone. "She hardly even recognized me, Jar Jar," he said to the Gungan. "I've thought about her every day since we've parted, and… she's forgotten me completely."

Qui-Gon looked to his left when he heard Obi-Wan walk up to him. "Master, may I have a word?" he asked quietly.

"Surely," Qui-Gon said. "Anakin, wait here," he added to his Padawan. "We'll be right back."

Obi-Wan led him in the direction where Typho had gone back toward the elevator. Taking a turn, Obi-Wan glanced behind him before stopping against the wall. "I cannot allow Anakin to act so insubordinately with me," he said in a hushed voice. "It was completely out of line for him to question me in front of the Senator like that."

"I agree, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "But I urge you not to take it too personally."

"How can I not?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Anakin was merely trying to impress the Senator, that's all," Qui-Gon said. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Are you sure about that, Master?" Obi-Wan asked. "He has been acting increasingly belligerent with me lately. I don't think this was just some testosterone-driven outburst."

Qui-Gon frowned and looked away as he considered this. "Belligerent how?" he asked.

"I believe he is angry at me for superseding your position in the eyes of the Council," Obi-Wan told him.

"You have done no such thing," Qui-Gon said at once.

"I know that, but Anakin seems to think so," Obi-Wan said. "I can tell that he thinks the Council is favoring me and acting unfairly to you."

Qui-Gon nodded pensively and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He couldn't deny that he too was growing frustrated with the Council, and this latest injustice had only served to amplify his displeasure with them. Qui-Gon had once been the Council's primary choice for important missions such as this one, but lately it seemed as if Obi-Wan had replaced him in this capacity. No doubt, his former affiliation with Dooku had taken a toll on his trustworthiness in the eyes of the Council, and especially Windu. Nevertheless, it wasn't fair for Anakin to be taking out his frustrations on Obi-Wan.

"You're right, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with a sigh. "I will talk to Anakin about this."

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said.

"Come on," Qui-Gon said as he uncrossed his arms and patted Obi-Wan reassuringly on the shoulder. "We should get to work."

* * *

After they had conducted a thorough sweep of the Senator's apartment and the surrounding complex, Qui-Gon joined Anakin on the patio overlooking the Coruscant skyline. It was nighttime now, yet the city was illuminated by millions of pinpricks of light which obfuscated the stars above. Qui-Gon paused for a moment as he watched Anakin staring blankly at the featureless night sky.

"How are you?" Qui-Gon asked cautiously as he walked over by Anakin's side along the railing.

Anakin lowered his head to look at him. "Fine," he said a bit curtly.

Qui-Gon frowned and leaned forward a bit as he grasped the railing. "Anakin, I want you to be able to talk to me," he said. When Anakin said nothing, Qui-Gon released the railing and turned to face him directly. "Obi-Wan told me that you have been acting belligerently with him," he said.

"That's not true," Anakin said at once.

"Ani," Qui-Gon said. Anakin turned to look at him sharply, having not heard his father call him by that nickname in a long time. "Tell me what's bothering you."

Anakin sighed and looked down at his boots for a moment. "I've just been feeling so… frustrated lately," he said eventually.

"Because of the Council?" Qui-Gon asked.

"In part," Anakin said.

"I can understand," Qui-Gon said. "I too can become frustrated with them, but I don't allow it to affect my work. You shouldn't either."

"I know, Master," Anakin said. Qui-Gon always felt uncomfortable when Anakin called him that, but it was a precaution they had to take whenever they were outside Qui-Gon's apartment. Even when they were alone like this, it was too risky for Anakin to refer to him as anything else. "But it's not just the Council that's on my mind," he said.

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow as he rested his lower back against the railing behind him. "Does this have anything to do with the Senator?" he asked carefully.

"With Padmé? No, of course not," Anakin said quickly.

"Then what?" Qui-Gon asked, thoroughly unconvinced by this assurance.

Anakin looked back toward the apartment where Obi-Wan was currently pacing back and forth. "It has to do with… with my mother," Anakin said softly.

Qui-Gon caught his breath, having not expected this. The two of them very rarely discussed Shmi with each other, although he knew that both of them thought about her practically every day. It was simply too difficult of a subject for either of them to broach. "What about her?" Qui-Gon asked, his throat feeling a bit constricted.

Anakin didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned and walked away a few steps until he was at the opposite edge of the patio. "I think that… that we are connected somehow," he said, his back still facing him.

"Connected? What do you mean by that?" Qui-Gon asked, his interest piqued.

"Sometimes… oftentimes, I feel things that don't make sense to me," Anakin said. Turning back around, Anakin spread his arms and gripped the railing behind him tightly.

"Why don't they make sense?"

Anakin paused for a long time once again, his eyes fixated on the ground. "I feel… emotions," he said finally. "Emotions that don't make sense in context."

Qui-Gon frowned, not understanding what Anakin was telling him. "Are you talking about mood swings?" he asked. "Because that is very common for someone your age."

"No," Anakin said emphatically with a shake of his head. "This is different. It's like… like I'm angry even when I don't have anything to be angry about. Or frustrated even when everything is completely fine."

"And you think this has something to do with your mother?" Qui-Gon asked skeptically. When Anakin nodded, Qui-Gon pushed himself away from the railing and took a step toward Anakin. "Anakin, I understand that you miss her, but –"

"I'm not making this up," Anakin said irritably as he too stood up straight. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. That's why I haven't told you until now."

"Anakin, it's not that I don't believe you, but you have to consider what it is that you are saying," Qui-Gon said. "Your mother has been missing for over ten years. In all likeliness, she is currently light years away from us right now. Do you honestly believe that you are connected that strongly through the Force that you can discern her emotions that clearly?"

"Yes," Anakin said confidently. "The Force acts differently for me than it does for you, Master."

Incensed by Anakin's supercilious tone, Qui-Gon held up a finger and took another step closer to his son. "Don't you try to pull that card, Anakin," he said sternly. "I don't care how many midichlorians you may have. You shouldn't think that you know more about the Force than I do because of that. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Master," Anakin said, drooping his head in shame.

Qui-Gon's expression softened. "I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted to hear, Anakin," he said.

"I understand," Anakin said bitterly. "You just don't want to consider the possibility that she's still out there."

"What?" Qui-Gon asked, caught off guard by this accusation.

"I know you're angry at her," Anakin said. "I know you hate her for leaving us."

"I do not –"

"There's no need to lie, Master. I can sense your disdain for her."

"So what if I do?" he snapped. "Are you not angry with her for what she did?"

"No," Anakin said. "Because I know that wherever she is, she still loves me and she will do anything in her power to return."

"You know that, do you?" Qui-Gon asked, a bitter acrimony seeping into his voice.

"Yes, I do," Anakin said as he raised his chin. "I can sense it, and even if you can't, I won't give up on her."

Qui-Gon sagged his shoulders and sighed. It was wrong of him to unveil his frustrations to Anakin like that. The boy clearly still idolized his mother and there was nothing Qui-Gon could say to convince him otherwise. But how long would it take for Anakin to give up hope? After how many years would Anakin finally lose faith like Qui-Gon had?

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and recomposed himself. "I am sorry, Anakin," he said wearily. "It's just…" He trailed off, unable to find the words to properly explain himself. "I'm just so tired of it all," he said finally.

Anakin's defiant expression softened into a more sympathetic one at this pathetic admission. "Master, I –" he began to say, but suddenly he froze, a terrified look imprinted on his face.

"I sense it too," Qui-Gon said as he reached for his lightsaber. Anakin was faster than him, however. Producing his own blue blade, Anakin zoomed past Obi-Wan who had only just sensed that something was amiss. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan ran together after Anakin toward Amidala's room.

They just reached the room in time to see Anakin leap onto Amidala's bed and slice downward at a pair of what looked like some sort of slug-like creatures. Amidala woke up with a start just as Obi-Wan turned toward the window to see a drone floating outside of the Senator's bedroom window. Without a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan leapt forward through the glass window and managed to grab onto the drone as it flew away.

"Stay here!" Anakin yelled to Amidala as he rushed out of the room. Qui-Gon activated his own green lightsaber when Anakin had left while her handmaiden and several other security personnel came running into the bedroom.

"What happened?" Typho asked Qui-Gon.

"I'm not sure," Qui-Gon said as he walked around the Senator's bed to investigate the slugs which Anakin had sliced in half.

"Was there another attack?" Amidala asked as she tried to shoo away her handmaiden.

"I believe so, yes," Qui-Gon said as he deactivated his lightsaber. Lifting the remains of the slugs up with the Force, he investigated them with perverse curiosity.

"Kouhuns," Typho said. Qui-Gon dropped the slugs back down to the ground and turned to look at the Captain.

"What?" he asked.

"Those are Kouhuns," Typho said again. "They're extremely deadly creatures. One bite, and they would kill you in an instant."

"Did you see who sent them?" Amidala asked urgently. It was clear she was trying to convey an air of calm – if not for herself, then for the sake of her panicked handmaiden – yet the tremor in her voice betrayed her fear.

"Anakin and Obi-Wan are in pursuit," Qui-Gon said. "I believe the drone which delivered these will return to its sender now. Hopefully the identity of your attacker will soon be revealed."

Amidala nodded and swallowed hard. "I'm fine, really," she murmured to her handmaiden who was fussing over her frantically as she knelt by her bedside.

"It's a good thing Anakin acted as fast as he did," Qui-Gon said as he reattached his lightsaber to his belt. "He saved your life, my lady."

Amidala merely nodded, clearly too shaken to respond.

* * *

The next morning, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin gave their report before the Council. Upon rushing after the drone, Obi-Wan and Anakin had managed to track down the Senator's would be assassin, yet they hadn't been able to get much information out of her before she was killed herself by a bounty hunter whom they assumed had been the one to employ her.

"Track down this bounty hunter, you must, Obi-Wan," Yoda said once Obi-Wan had finished with his report.

"Most importantly, find out who he's working for," Windu added.

"What about Senator Amidala?" Qui-Gon asked. "She will still need protecting."

The Council was silent for a few tenuous moments, and Qui-Gon glanced around nervously, unsure what he had done wrong. "Master Jinn, the Council has decided to take you off of this assignment," Windu said finally.

"What?" Anakin exclaimed before Qui-Gon had a chance to say anything. "Why?"

Windu's eyes narrowed as they darted to Anakin. "This is a matter between this Council and Master Jinn," he said icily.

"But this is outrageous!" Anakin protested. "Master Jinn deserves to –"

"The Council has made up its mind," Windu interrupted. "I advise you not to question the Council's judgement any more than you already have, young Skywalker."

"It's alright, Anakin," Qui-Gon whispered to his incensed Padawan. Anakin turned to him, his face contorted with furious indignation, yet he mercifully kept his mouth shut at Windu's insistence.

"Who will look after the Senator?" Obi-Wan asked, his own voice sounding strained with umbrage, yet he had managed to keep his emotions in check unlike Anakin. Nevertheless, Qui-Gon could sense that Obi-Wan was no less outraged than Anakin was by this unjust dismissal.

"Handle that, young Skywalker will," Yoda said, pointing a stubby finger at the still-seething Anakin.

Both Anakin and Qui-Gon's eyes widened at this. Qui-Gon was sure he must have misheard the Grand Master. The Council was actually going to assign his Padawan to a mission which he was no longer a part of? How could a Padawan be assigned to a mission without his or her master? He couldn't tell if this unprecedented assignment was a consequence of the Council's severe distrust of him or because of their confidence in Anakin. Perhaps it was a combination of both factors. Either way, Qui-Gon knew this assignment was a terrible mistake. Anakin could not be trusted to look after Amidala on his own, for a multitude of reasons.

"Anakin, go with the Senator back to her home planet of Naboo," Windu instructed. "She will be safer there. And don't use registered transport. Travel as refugees."

Anakin swallowed hard and glanced at Qui-Gon before responding. It was clear that Anakin was still angry about how the Council had treated his father. Coupling this with the shock of being assigned his first ever mission, it was no wonder that Anakin was rendered momentarily speechless.

"As the leader of the opposition, it will be very difficult to get Senator Amidala to leave the capital," Anakin was finally able to say.

"Until caught this killer is, our judgement she must respect," Yoda said as he rested his chin pensively on his hands.

"Anakin, go to the Senate and ask Chancellor Palpatine to speak with her about this matter," Windu said. The dour Jedi frowned when the three of them remained motionless, clearly having expected them to interpret this as a dismissal. "You are now excused," he said irritably.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bowed, yet Anakin continued to remain still, staring back at Windu unblinkingly. "Anakin, come on," Qui-Gon murmured as he placed his hand on Anakin's waist and dragged him away. Anakin resisted for a moment before finally walking away on his own volition. As the doors closed behind them, he finally unloaded.

"I can't believe them!" he exclaimed loudly. Qui-Gon flinched and looked behind him at the closed doors. They had barely walked a few feet away from the Council chamber, and he had no doubt that the Masters inside that room would still be able to hear Anakin.

"Anakin, calm down –" Qui-Gon tried to say.

"No, I won't calm down!" Anakin said. "It's so unfair!"

"I know it is, but we can't do anything about it," Qui-Gon said in a hushed voice as he tried to get Anakin to continue walking away from the Council chamber. "Believe me, I am as disappointed as you are, but you don't want to pick a fight with the Council on this."

"Why not?" Anakin asked once they had reached the elevator. "You've never been one to be docile, Master."

"I am not docile," Qui-Gon said through gritted teeth, aggrieved that Anakin would impugn him in this way. Of all the accusations one could make of him, that was the one which he would absolutely not permit. "But this is not a fight worth instigating. I will not allow you to berate the Council on my behalf. I don't want you getting in trouble over this." When Anakin clenched his jaw and looked away, Qui-Gon added in a low voice: "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Master," Anakin said begrudgingly.

"Good," Qui-Gon said. "Now, you should go to the Senate and talk to the Chancellor. I will help Obi-Wan track down this bounty hunter."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said again.

The three made the ride down the elevator in complete silence. Qui-Gon could tell that Anakin was not any less outraged than he had been before. He could only hope that his Padawan wouldn't get into trouble over his temper. Perhaps an extended leave of absence on Naboo would actually be a good thing for him.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bid Anakin goodbye as the elevator came to a stop on the ground floor. "It was wrong of the Council to remove you from the assignment, Master," Obi-Wan said once Anakin had gone.

Qui-Gon sighed as they walked down the vast hallway toward the Jedi Archives. "I know," he said heavily. "They don't trust me anymore."

"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked. "You've been a Master for nearly three decades. How could they not trust you?"

"They think I am aligned in some way with Dooku," Qui-Gon said, rolling his eyes.

"That's absurd!" Obi-Wan said.

"It is," Qui-Gon agreed. "But the recent attack on the Senator has done nothing to attenuate that suspicion. There is nothing else I can do but obey their commands, no matter how insulting they may be."

"I must talk to Master Windu about this," Obi-Wan said.

"Don't bother," Qui-Gon said. "There's nothing you can say to change his mind. All we can do is be patient."

Obi-Wan frowned at his former master, yet didn't object. They continued their walk in silence, each Master struggling to contain their ever growing frustrations.

It was hard for Qui-Gon to adopt this passive mindset when it so clearly contradicted his natural disposition toward disobedience. Nevertheless, he knew he had to do it for Anakin's sake. He couldn't allow his son to grow as frustrated with the Council as he was. He knew deep down that even though the Jedi could be infuriating at times, he needed them in order to keep Anakin safe. If Anakin became disenchanted with the Order, he feared that he would become susceptible to the corruptive influence of the Sith which he could feel growing stronger by the day.


	11. Compassion

_Coruscant_

"I will talk to her. Senator Amidala will not refuse an executive order. I know her well enough to assure you that."

"Thank you, your Excellency," Anakin said with a slight bow of his head to the Chancellor.

"And so," Palpatine said, his eyes glinting. "They've finally given you an assignment. Your patience has paid off." Anakin nodded and looked away out the magnificent window overlooking Coruscant's bustling skyline. "And yet I sense that something is bothering you," Palpatine said, causing Anakin to turn back to look at him.

"It's just…" Anakin trailed off, remembering what his father had told him. He didn't want Anakin to be pursuing this issue any further, but surely he had meant that only in the context of the Council. The Chancellor was a friend! A friend whom he needed to talk to. "The Council was very disrespectful to my… Master," he said, catching himself just in time before referring to Qui-Gon as his father.

Palpatine frowned and didn't say anything for a moment. Suddenly he turned and began to walk away from the window slowly. "I assume you are referring to their decision to take Master Jinn off of the assignment," he said as Anakin followed him.

"Yes," Anakin confirmed. "It's unfair. They don't trust him for some reason. They favor Obi-Wan over him even though he has far more experience."

"Anakin, there are many things you have yet to learn about the world of politics," Palpatine said as they began descending the shot set of stairs.

"The Council is not political," Anakin said at once, regurgitating the mantra which the Jedi had told him since he had joined the Order ten years ago.

"Not in the sense you are thinking, perhaps," Palpatine conceded. "Nonetheless, Master Jinn was not removed from this assignment for purely logical reasons, as you already know."

Anakin frowned and stopped walking as they approached a pair of couches. "I don't understand," he said.

"Anakin, you must know why the Council does not trust your Master," Palpatine said with a half-smile as he turned around to face him. When Anakin continued to stare blankly at the Chancellor, Palpatine elaborated. "They fear him for his history with Count Dooku," he explained. "As the leader of the Separatists and a suspected Sith Lord, Dooku is indeed a very dangerous man to be affiliated with."

"But he hasn't talked to Dooku in years!" Anakin protested.

"I don't doubt it, but the Council is suspicious of him nonetheless."

"Well they shouldn't be!"

"I agree. Why else do you think I proposed Master Jinn be in charge of the assignment to protect Senator Amidala in the first place?" Anakin blinked a few times as he internalized this information. "You did not know that, I take it?" Palpatine asked.

"No," Anakin said. "I didn't." This was reassuring, at least. It showed that he could trust the Chancellor. He didn't have a grudge against his father in the same way the Council did.

Palpatine nodded and looked away, a pensive look imprinted on his face. "Sit, Anakin," he said, gesturing to the couch. Anakin complied, sitting down on the leather couch without looking down. The Chancellor sat down across from him and leaned back against the plush cushion. "The Council can be quite… limited at times," he said, tapping his fingers languidly against his thigh.

"I agree," Anakin said.

The corner of Palpatine's mouth twitched, evidently pleased that Anakin shared this sentiment. "Don't think that I dislike the Order," he said. "I am intimately aware of the very important role they serve in the galaxy. That being said, I do wish they would… relent a bit with regards to their dogmatic views."

"I agree," Anakin said again. "They can be very frustrating to deal with."

Palpatine's mouth stretched into a full grin, his eyes twinkling with an unidentifiable element. Was it pride? Or something more… sinister? Anakin didn't have time to consider this any further, however, because Palpatine had suddenly stood up.

"Well, I'm sure you will make them proud," he said. "Now if you will excuse me, I have a meeting which I cannot be late to."

"Of course, your Excellency," Anakin said as he stood up as well. "And thank you for everything."

"Anytime, my boy," Palpatine said with another smile.

* * *

Anakin peered out the window in Padmé's apartment with an absent expression. Vaguely, he noticed two drones hovering outside as they repaired the window Obi-Wan had smashed last night. Looking down, he picked up a fruit and contemplated its texture for a moment before turning around to watch Padmé pack.

"What's wrong?" she asked when she looked up to see his eyes on her. Evidently, she could sense something was amiss with him. She always could tell how he was feeling, even when others could not.

"I… I'm alright," he said haltingly. Looking down at the fruit, he tossed it upwards and suspended it in midair, revolving it slowly in front of him. With a sigh, he looked away from the fruit and frowned. "I'm just frustrated, that's all," he said.

"What about?" Padmé asked as she turned around to walk back toward her closet.

"Everything," Anakin grumbled as he released the fruit and caught it. Setting it back down on the table, he walked away from the window toward the bed. "With the Council. With my Master," he paused, his eyes lingering over the embroidered pattern on the quilt on Padmé's bed. "With myself even," he concluded.

"With yourself?" Padmé repeated. "Why?"

"I don't know," Anakin said as he spun around for a second time. "I feel… I feel like I'm doing something wrong. Like… like there's something staring me right in the face but I can't see it. Do you understand?"

Padmé set a folded dress down beside her suitcase and looked up at him. "I won't pretend like I do, Ani," she said. Anakin blushed and turned away from her when she called him that. "But I don't think you're doing anything wrong. You saved my life last night. You know how thankful I am for that, don't you?"

Anakin swallowed nervously and nodded his head perhaps a bit too vigorously. He couldn't deny how smug he felt when she told him that. Of course, it didn't matter to him who had been the one to save Padmé. All that mattered to him was that she was alright. Even so, he was glad that it had been him and not someone else. Perhaps now she wouldn't see him only as the little boy she had once known. Perhaps now she would see him in the same light as she saw Obi-Wan: as a man and not as a child.

"I know, it's just…" He trailed off, remembering the frustrating conversation he had had with his father last night. "Do you remember my mother?" he asked suddenly.

"Of course I do," Padmé said.

"I haven't seen her in ten years," Anakin said heavily as he took a step forward and sat down on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. "It's been so long that my memory of her is fading."

Padmé pursed her lips and crossed her arms as she looked down at him with a sympathetic expression. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Sometimes I feel as if she's… calling to me, somehow," he said, his eyes unfocused as he stared blankly at the carpeted floor. "Like she needs my help but I don't know how to help her." When Padmé said nothing, he shook his head and looked back up at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You have more important things to think about."

"No, Ani, don't say that," she said. Anakin inhaled sharply when she reached down and patted the top of his hand reassuringly, her soft touch sending a jolt of electricity up his arm. "I understand what it's like to miss your family. And to not see her for ten years… I can't imagine how terrible that must be for you."

Anakin looked down at their hands with a doleful expression. "I… I miss her so much," he said, choking up slightly. Abruptly, he yanked his hand away and stood up. "I know that she needs me, and yet my… my Master refuses to believe me."

"That must be frustrating," Padmé said.

"It's worse," Anakin said, raising his voice. "Not only does he not believe me, he's totally given up. He's just so depressed that he won't let me have any hope whatsoever. It's like it offends him."

"Are you talking about Qui-Gon?" Padmé asked, sounding thoroughly perplexed.

Anakin bit his tongue as he realized his mistake. For all she knew, Qui-Gon had nothing to do with his mother. How could he have been so careless? Yet as he turned around to look into Padmé's questioning eyes, he considered the impossible: what if he told her the truth? He knew he shouldn't do it, but now that he thought about it, the more desperately he wanted to do so. Of all the people, Padmé surely was the best one for him to talk to. She understood him like few others and she would surely be willing to keep his secret.

"Anakin?"

Anakin blinked a few times and brought himself back to reality. He was being an idiot. It was too dangerous to tell her the truth. Although he knew she wouldn't tell on him, he couldn't risk the Council finding out. If they did, no doubt both he and his father would be expelled from the Order, and Obi-Wan very well could get into trouble as well if it was revealed that he had known all along.

"I'm sorry, I should stop bothering you," he said.

"But, Ani –"

"No, really," Anakin said, holding up his hand to stop her. "I'll let you pack."

Padmé frowned, but she didn't pursue any further. As she turned around to march back toward her closet, Anakin let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in up to that point. There was something about Padmé which he couldn't describe. It was… intoxicating. She made him want to spill out all of his most secretive thoughts and emotions to her. Perhaps it was because he needed someone like her in his life. He needed someone other than his father or Obi-Wan to talk to. He needed someone who could help him understand what it that he was feeling. He needed someone who could understand him for who he was and not as who they wanted him to be.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Anakin was tapping his foot furiously against the floor as the bus speeder came to a stop at the freighter docks in one of Coruscant's many spaceports. Seated next to him was his father, who kept giving him side glances which Anakin refused to acknowledge. With a lurch, the bus landed on the platform in the shadow of a massive starship which he and Padmé were going to be taking to Naboo.

With a deep breath, Anakin stood up. He watched as Padmé reassured her handmaiden and Captain Typho that she would be alright. It was a little irritating how obviously those two didn't have any faith in him. Typho kept glancing over at Anakin, his one eye narrowed with suspicion.

"Anakin, a word."

Anakin looked away from Typho to see his father and Obi-Wan standing behind him. When Anakin nodded, they turned away walked a few steps away out of ear shot of the others.

"Anakin, you stay put on Naboo," Obi-Wan told him. "Do not attract any attention. Do absolutely nothing without checking in with me or the Council."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said obediently, although internally he was making a face at Obi-Wan. He still wasn't comfortable with reporting directly to Obi-Wan instead of to Qui-Gon. It just didn't feel right.

"This is a great opportunity but also an enormous responsibility the Council has granted you," Qui-Gon said, placing his hand on Anakin's shoulder. Qui-Gon looked beyond Anakin for a moment before taking a step closer toward him. "Be careful," he whispered. "Don't allow your feelings for the Senator interfere with your mission."

Anakin bristled in indignation. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said stiffly.

Qui-Gon hesitated, noticing that Typho and Padmé were staring at them from the other end of the bus. "Just take care," he said vaguely. With one last squeeze of his shoulder, Qui-Gon retracted his hand and smiled at him. "I am very proud of you, Anakin."

Anakin's irritation with his father faded a bit as he reciprocated the smile. "Thank you, Master," he said. "I won't let you down."

* * *

_Outer Rim_

Shmi took a deep breath as she willed herself to let go of her consciousness as her father had taught her to do. Dispensing of her inhibitions and petty insecurities, she allowed the darkness to swirl around her and empower her. She had long since learned how to master this awesome power. Years of training had turned her into a far greater warrior than the Jedi could ever even conceive of.

In spite of her advances, however, she couldn't deny that she was jaded. She had devoted a significant portion of her life to this rigorous training. It had been so long that at times she forgot that she had a greater purpose at all. Her frustration grew by the day, and with it her anger was only enhanced, rendering her even more powerful in the ways of the darkness. Part of her suspected that this was what Plagueis wanted. He wanted her to be frustrated so that she could surpass the barriers which no mortal had ever surpassed.

But to what end? Why did she need to become even more powerful than she already was? Surely Sidious wasn't a match for her? No one could compare to her. She was invincible.

On this note, Shmi activated the two lightsabers in her hands. A black cloth blindfold covered her eyes, yet she could see the blades as clearly as if she was staring directly at them. She could sense their unique identities through the Force. In her right hand was the blade she had had nearly her entire life. The blue blade was stable and calm, emblematic of her former self: dutiful yet cripplingly limited. In her left hand was the blade she had stolen from Maul's double-bladed lightsaber ten years ago. Having been severed at the hilt, the red crystal had sustained a hairline fracture down the middle and as a consequence the blade it produced was shaky, volatile, and unpredictable. She felt equally confident with both blades, however. She had mastered both the light and the dark, the blue and the red.

Shmi inhaled sharply and looked up sightlessly. She reached out and probed the remote droid which she knew was hovering in front of her. It was still. She then diverted her attention to the two remotes on her left and right. Satisfied, she finally reached out behind her to the fourth and final remote. As she did so, she thrust her red blade behind her, compelled into action not by her mind, but by the Force. She deflected the bolt without even having to turn to face it. Only then did she pivot. Ducking under the bolt the remote to her left fired at her, she deflected the one which came whizzing at her from the remote which had been in front of her.

Her blades whirled about in a systematic fashion, deflected the barrage of bolts which the four remotes unleashed upon her. She acted before the bolts had even been fired, her mind so attuned to the Force that she could see the immediate future and she acted accordingly. On and on she went, yet her body didn't tire. Although her heart rate was elevated, she never felt as calm as she did when she was fighting the remotes. Only then did she feel as if she knew what she was doing.

Finally after five minutes of deflecting the bolts, the remotes powered off automatically. Feeling somewhat disappointed, Shmi deactivated her lightsabers with a huff. Tearing off the blindfold, she threw it to the ground and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She didn't know what she had expected. She had long since mastered the remotes; they no longer presented a challenge for her. Yet she knew she had to do something with herself. She'd go crazy otherwise.

Upon reattaching her lightsabers to her belt, Shmi took each remote down out of the air and set them aside in the closet. Closing the door, Shmi sighed deeply as she walked back over toward the center of the featureless room. There were no windows nor any light. It was thoroughly depressing if she stopped to think about it, but she had long since learned not to object to the drab conditions. If Plagueis decided that this place was safe, that was where they would stay.

But why? Why did they have to continue to hide? This was the question which had bounced around her head more or less incessantly for years. Her father insisted that she wasn't ready, that she needed more training, but she knew that couldn't possibly be the case. With each passing day, she felt more and more anxious and frustrated. How long had it been since she left Anakin behind? Five years? Ten? She honestly couldn't tell. Time no longer had much meaning to her and since Plagueis wouldn't tell her, she had no idea whatsoever.

Shmi closed her eyes and sat down cross-legged on the cool metallic floor. She thought about Anakin all the time. What did he look like now? Was he a teenager or a young man by now? Was he tall like Qui-Gon or shorter like her? Would she even be able to recognize him if she saw him again?

_Oh Ani _she thought, projecting her despondent thoughts out into the Force in the hope that somehow he would be able to hear her. _I miss you so much._

* * *

_Hyperspace en-route to Naboo_

_Oh Ani_

_Anakin?_

_I miss you so much_

_Ani?_

_I miss you_

_Can you hear me?_

_I miss you so, so much._

"Anakin?"

Anakin woke up with a start to see Padmé looming over him, a bowl of some unidentified, steaming substance set aside on a tray to her left.

"Are you alright?" she asked. He recoiled a bit when a tendril of hair escaped her previously tightly bound bun and tickled his forehead.

"Of course. I'm fine," Anakin said quickly as he sat upright. Rubbing his eyes, he stretched his back and yawned mightily. "How long was I asleep?" he asked.

"Not long," she said. "I got you something to eat," she added, gesturing to the bowl.

"Thank you," Anakin said appreciatively as he stood up off the bench and scooped up the bowl. He frowned subtly as he investigated the contents. It seemed like a stew of some sort, but he couldn't be sure about that. As long as it was edible, however, he was going to eat it. If his mother had taught him anything, it was that food was not to be taken for granted. Ten years of his father's excellent cooking hadn't caused him to forget that lesson. His previous life as a slave helped him keep things in perspective.

Padmé followed him as he sat down on a table and set the bowl in front of him. He glanced around surreptitiously to see if anyone was watching them. There were a lot of shady people on a refugee freighter such as this one, after all. Fortunately, it seemed as if they hadn't garnered any unwanted attention to that point.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Padmé asked, leaning forward as she sat down across from him. "You were muttering something in your sleep."

Anakin looked down at his stew and blinked a few times, the steam from the dish rendering his vision hazy and his eyes watery. "I had another dream," he mumbled as he looked up to meet Padmé's compassionate eyes. "About my mother."

Padmé pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. "A bad dream?" she asked.

Anakin shrugged and turned away, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. "Not really," he said. "Just… more of the same."

"Tell me," she said, once again startling him when she reached out and placed her hand atop his.

Anakin blinked a few times and stared at her much smaller hand. "It's not really even a dream, I think," he said. "More like… I don't know."

"More like what?"

"Like I'm sensing her, in a way."

Padmé frowned and retracted her hand. He couldn't blame her for being skeptical. After all, she had no idea how the Force worked. For all intents and purposes, his father didn't either. Sure, he was Force sensitive as well, but he didn't appreciate the fullness of the Force. He wasn't able to understand how much more responsive the Force was to Anakin than it was to him.

"I can feel what she feels," Anakin explained, suddenly speaking with greater confidence and urgency. Padmé was a far more receptive audience than his father had been, and that was exactly what he needed right now.

"How do you know?" Padmé asked.

"It's not really something I can explain, especially since you aren't Force sensitive," he said. At once, Anakin cringed, realizing how rude those words sounded the second they left his mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"Ani, it's fine," Padmé interrupted, smiling slightly at his frantic contrition. "I'm not offended." Anakin smiled apologetically and looked away, his cheeks tinged red with residual embarrassment. "I think it's amazing, really," she added.

"What is?" Anakin asked.

"The Force," Padmé elaborated. "I mean, you must see the galaxy in such a different lens than the rest of us normal people."

Anakin's smile broadened as his embarrassment transformed into pride. "Yeah, I guess it is pretty cool," he admitted with a smug smirk. He was about to expand upon just how cool his powers really were when Padmé interrupted him.

"So what is it that she's feeling?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Your mom," Padmé said. "What type of things are you sensing?"

"Oh," Anakin said, remembering the context of the conversation. "Well, for the longest time I didn't know it was my mom. I thought it was just me." When Padmé tilted her head in confusion, Anakin elaborated. "I mean, I thought I was feeling these things I was sensing," he said. "But after a while I realized it didn't make sense."

"Why not?" she asked.

Anakin took a deep breath and placed his hands around the base of the bowl which was pleasantly warm. "I just feel so frustrated all the time," he said, unable to meet Padmé's eyes for fear that she would be disturbed by this confession. "Even when I have no reason to be."

"And you think it's actually your mom that is feeling this way?" Padmé asked slowly.

"I'm sure of it," Anakin said, although he wasn't sure why he was so confident of this.

"Why would that be?" Padmé asked.

"I don't know," Anakin said. "That's what bothers me so much. I have no idea where she is or why she is feeling this way." When Padmé didn't say anything, Anakin sighed and finally picked up the spoon and took a tentative bite of the mushy stew. "I know I sound crazy," he mumbled after he had swallowed the flavorless concoction.

"You're not crazy," Padmé insisted. "I don't know what makes you think that. It's perfectly reasonable for you to miss your mother."

"The Jedi don't think so," Anakin spat, unable to keep the acrimony out of his voice. "And neither does my Master."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants me to forget her," Anakin said as he glowered down at his stew. "He wants me to move on just like…"

"Just like what?" Padmé asked when he trailed off.

Anakin shook his head and took another mouthful of stew. Once again, he was being far too loose with his tongue around Padmé. _Just like he has _was what he wanted to say. "It's as if everyone wants me to forget about her," he said instead.

"You shouldn't have to," Padmé said.

"You think I don't know that?" Anakin said a bit sharply. "But it's hard. I don't have anything to remember her by. No pictures, no holorecordings, no nothing. And I… and I can barely even remember what she l-looked like."

"Ani –"

"No," Anakin said, pushing away her outstretched hand and standing up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him and falling over to the ground. "I'm fine," he insisted disingenuously. His lower lip trembled precariously as he turned his back on her and walked a few steps away, unwanted tears burning his eyes. Placing his hand on his forehead, Anakin took a few shaky breaths as he recomposed himself. He felt terribly embarrassed for breaking down in front of Padmé like that. How could he want her to look at him like a man if he was literally crying about missing his mother to her?

Anakin stiffened when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. With a sniffle, he turned around to see Padmé had stood up as well and was standing in front of him. Wordlessly, she took a step closer to him and wrapped her arms around his still trembling body. Anakin wanted to object, but he found that he was unable. Instead, he gave up and allowed himself to melt into Padmé's embrace. The tears he had been fighting off finally prevailed and began to stream down his cheeks freely and into Padmé's fragrant hair.

* * *

_Coruscant_

Qui-Gon was feeling thoroughly depressed – or at least more so than usual, that is – when he returned to his apartment late that night. After Anakin and Padmé had departed for Naboo, he had gone with Obi-Wan to the Jedi Archives to perform some more research into the identity of the mysterious bounty hunter. Qui-Gon hadn't been able to be of much assistance, however, when it was revealed that the Archives were unable to identify the origin of the poison dart the bounty hunter had used to kill the hired assassin, Zam Wesell.

Obi-Wan had then rushed off to meet with an acquaintance of his who he thought might be able to help him. Qui-Gon had stayed behind, not knowing what to do with himself. He had lingered around the Archives for a few hours longer waiting for Obi-Wan to return, but when he did not, Qui-Gon decided to call it a night and return home.

The door to his apartment shut behind him and Qui-Gon took a few heavy steps toward the kitchen. He threw the keys to his speeder onto the kitchen table and walked over toward the sink. Upon grabbing a glass, he turned the faucet on and filled the glass with recycled water which always had a strange plastic tang to it. He didn't care about that now, however, as he took a deep drink, a bit of water spilling out the sides of his mouth and dampening his unruly grey beard. Setting the empty glass down forcefully into the bottom of the sink, Qui-Gon leaned forward and grasped the edge of the counter with both hands.

Never before had he felt so completely useless; Obi-Wan was off performing a crucial mission for the Order and his son was off planet protecting Senator Amidala. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon was staring blankly at the curved stainless steel faucet, contemplating what the point of it all was. He was sick of all things Jedi: the Council and the code, the rigidity and the dogmatism. Qui-Gon was done with it all. Perhaps at some point he had cared about it, but now he didn't. The only reason why he continued to play their game was for Anakin's sake, and now he was questioning even that. It was clear that his son didn't need him anymore. The Jedi placed Anakin in far higher regard than him. Why else would they have assigned Anakin an important mission without him? It was clear the Council didn't respect or trust him.

That should have frustrated Qui-Gon, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn't really care anymore what the Council thought of him. He had given up fighting against them long, long ago. Qui-Gon snorted sardonically as he sagged his shoulders and drooped his head forward. After all these years, they had finally beaten him. Windu must be thrilled. The recalcitrant and troublesome Qui-Gon Jinn had finally been forced into submission by the indomitable Jedi Council.

Qui-Gon smiled humorlessly as he pushed himself off the counter. As he turned around, however, he was startled when something was thrust into his mouth and an unidentifiable flash of red crossed before his eyes. He barely had a second to register what had happened when he felt himself losing consciousness. Falling backward, the back of his skull collided with the counter and everything went black.


	12. Unshackled

_Geonosis_

Qui-Gon awoke to find himself suspended in the air, his limbs immobilized by energy binders. He blinked a few times and groaned, a pounding headache bombarding the inside of his skull making it feel as if his eyeballs were going to pop out their sockets.

"I am sorry about this, my old friend."

Qui-Gon looked up quickly to see his former master and the man he hadn't seen in over a decade: Count Dooku. Just like him, Dooku had clearly aged over the course of the past ten years. His hair, which had always been prematurely grey, was now fully white and had receded farther up his forehead. His face was similarly aged, as deep wrinkles creased his formerly smooth countenance.

"I assure you, the binders are solely precautionary," he said as he took a step out of the shadows into the circular room.

"What am I doing here? What is going on?" Qui-Gon asked, his eyes darting about as he tried to figure out where he was. The brown walls were craggy and uneven, giving the sense that he was in a cave rather than an actual room. Craning his neck, he couldn't make out a ceiling as the walls extended upward into darkness.

Dooku didn't answer him at once. Instead he walked toward a control panel inlaid into the wall and pressed a button. The energy binders which had been restraining him disappeared and Qui-Gon fell to the ground. He nearly fell face first on to the dirt floor when Dooku stopped him with the Force.

"Sorry about that," he said as he helped him stand upright. Once he had established his footing, Qui-Gon pushed Dooku's veiny hand away and took a step back.

"What is going on?" he asked again. His hand instinctively hovered over his belt, yet he found that his weapon was no longer dangling there. "Where is my lightsaber?" he asked.

"I have it," Dooku said. "Don't worry, I will give it back to you in time."

"I want it back now," Qui-Gon said at once. When the corner of Dooku's mouth twitched in amusement, Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes contemptuously. "This isn't funny, Dooku," he said.

"Of course not," Dooku said, although his half-grin suggested the contrary. "I have missed you, my friend. It has been far too long." When Qui-Gon didn't reciprocate this sentiment, Dooku sighed and stepped aside. "Come," he said, his hand extended with his palm facing upward as he beckoned Qui-Gon to follow him. "We have much to discuss."

Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment, considering his options. Deciding there wasn't much else he could do, Qui-Gon swallowed his pride and followed his former master out of the circular room.

"I demand you tell me what this is all about, Dooku," Qui-Gon said once they had exited the room and began descending down a long, winding hallway.

Dooku made a tutting sound and shook his head. "Why must you be so serious, my young friend?" he asked. "You haven't seen me in ten years."

"What, you think I missed you?" Qui-Gon asked bitingly.

"I'd surely hope so," Dooku said good-naturedly.

"You're a Sith!" Qui-Gon spat. "You conspired to steal my wife from me!"

"I did not such thing," Dooku said with a frown. "As you know, Shmi made the decision to join my master willingly." Qui-Gon bit his tongue and growled, gravely annoyed that Dooku had made this point. "I did not bring you here to discuss the past, however," Dooku said.

"Bring me here?" Qui-Gon repeated indignantly. "You abducted me!"

"Well actually Jango did that, but that's an irrelevant technicality," Dooku said breezily. "And besides, how else would you suggest I make contact with you? You do realize the Jedi are spying on you, don't you?"

Qui-Gon faltered at this. "What?" he said.

"Oh dear, I take it you didn't know this?" Dooku asked. When Qui-Gon shook his head, Dooku smirked slightly. "I suppose that is not surprising. You always could be slightly oblivious."

"What are you talking about?" Qui-Gon asked, too bewildered to even consider being indignant at this jest.

"The Jedi have been monitoring your communications for years," Dooku informed him casually. "They suspect you have been in contact with me."

"And you know this how?" Qui-Gon asked skeptically.

"Do you doubt it?" Dooku asked, evading the question.

Qui-Gon hesitated as he considered this. The truthful answer was no, he didn't doubt this in the slightest. He knew the Jedi suspected him, so it wasn't much of a logical leap to assume that they were spying on him. Even so, the discovery was shocking to say the least.

"You see why I had to resort to these… _uncivilized_ measures in order to contact you," Dooku said. Qui-Gon nodded his head dazedly, still stunned that the Council had been spying on him for all this time. "I do hope you forgive me for that. I asked Jango to be careful with you, but I'm afraid subtlety is not his forte."

"Why did you need to contact me?" Qui-Gon asked, the confrontational tone dissipating as his suspicions of Dooku began to wane.

Dooku stopped walking and turned to him. Qui-Gon stopped as well and frowned when he saw Dooku's curious expression. "Because, my friend," he said jovially. "I need to kill you."

* * *

_Naboo_

Things were going from bad to worse for Anakin. Upon arriving on Naboo, he and Padmé had made a quick pit stop at the royal palace on Theed to meet with Queen Jamillia. All the while, Anakin had been feeling a growing sense of foreboding, yet he couldn't identify why. He had been so on edge that he had snapped at Padmé when she had questioned his competence as her bodyguard in front of the Queen. Needless to say, that had not been Anakin's finest moment. Even so, it seemed as if she had forgiven him for that slip up.

In fact, she had done far more than forgive him. When they departed Theed, they made their way to Varykino, a summer residence which belonged to Padmé's family. The persistent sense of inexplicable dread combined with a rather stunning and revealing dress which Padmé chose to wear had rendered Anakin utterly lost. His mind was fuzzy, his limbs gelatinous, and his sense of direction all but shot. He honestly had no idea what had happened. Vaguely, he recalled admitting something about his deep-seated distaste of sand and all of a sudden he and Padmé had been kissing. Abruptly, the miraculous moment came to an end, however, when Padmé recoiled and practically ran away from him.

Now he was seated across from her at an oval-shaped mahogany table in a majestic room graced with high-arching windows which allowed copious amounts of golden sunlight to stream through. As a consequence, Padmé's already angelic face was further illuminated by a halo of radiant light. Never before had Anakin felt so out of place and uncomfortable.

For her part, Padmé seemed to be pretending as if the incident on the porch hadn't happened at all. She was carrying herself with the same regal impassiveness as always. How she managed to achieve this was thoroughly beyond Anakin who was unable to cease staring at Padmé with wide, petrified eyes. What did she think of him now? Surely she must hate him. How could she not? She probably thought he was a petty, superficial man-child who only wanted to get into her pants. Any hopes he had of winning her over had surely been extinguished.

Yet was that really true? Although admittedly his mind still was a bit discombobulated, but he didn't recall actually initiating the kiss. Was it possible that she had been the one to do so? But then why had she reacted in the way she had? And why wasn't she addressing it now?

Anakin's mind was reeling as all these questions swirled around his head tempestuously. Yet at the core of his distressed state, however, was the ever-present sense of uneasiness. He hadn't had time to consider the cause of this feeling, what with everything else that had been going on, but he knew something bad had happened. Or perhaps something bad was going to happen? He wasn't entirely sure.

"Anakin? Are you alright?"

Anakin blinked rapidly as his eyes refocused. Padmé was staring at him without a hint of awkwardness on her part. How was she this calm about everything? Was she not going crazy just like he was?

"Um… yeah," he lied.

Padmé seemed far from convinced, yet she didn't pursue any further. The two ate their dinner in an uncomfortable silence. At least, it was uncomfortable for Anakin. Padmé continued to act as if nothing was amiss. On the other end of the spectrum, Anakin was struggling to navigate his fork from his plate up to his mouth, as it seemed whenever he attempted to take a bite, his food would fall off his fork and back down to the plate. Upon the third such occasion of this happening, Anakin was genuinely considering using the Force to levitate his food so that he wouldn't have to deal with the blasted silver wear.

Somehow he managed to make it through the main course without making any more of a fool of himself. After desert he had managed to get a slight reprieve by walking around the grounds, ostensibly so that he could perform a routine check of the premises for security purposes, but really it was just so that he could get away from Padmé and try to clear his head.

As the sun began to set, however, Anakin knew that his procrastination had to come to an end. He would have to go back inside. After all, he was here for Padmé's protection, and since they were all alone here – a fact which he was uncomfortably aware of – he had to be near her in order to fulfill his obligations.

Trudging back through the gardens and into the estate, Anakin traipsed down the marble hallways for a few minutes in a half-hearted effort to find Padmé. He could have concentrated on identifying her familiar Force presence, but instead he elected to take his time. Finally, he found her, seated by a blazing fire in a dimly-lit circular room. Anakin swallowed hard as he walked into the room and nearly choked on his own saliva when Padmé turned around to see him walk in.

Having evidently decided that her previous dress wasn't extravagant enough, Padmé had changed into a magnificent black gown which Anakin could only describe as sultry. The sleek material hugged her petite figure exquisitely while the dark color accentuated her brown eyes and hair. A shimmering, diaphanous scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck and cascaded down past her bosom while a simple yet elegant golden tiara adorned her forehead.

"Anakin?"

Anakin sputtered incoherently for a few moments before he regained control over his tongue. "Um… hi," he managed to say.

"Hi," she repeated a bit woodenly.

Anakin blinked furiously a few times before he realized his mouth was hanging open. "Uh… nice fire," he said, gesturing to the cheerful flames across the room. "Did you, uh… did you make that yourself?"

"What, you think I'm not capable of starting a fire?" Padmé asked playfully.

Anakin considered this for a moment. "Yes," he said honestly.

Padmé giggled and turned to look at the fire. "Well you're right," she said. "I just pressed the button." Anakin nodded and shuffled his feet awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Padmé looked back at him and smiled. "Sit," she said, scooting over on the couch and patting the cushion next to her.

Anakin wanted nothing less than to do that, but he walked across the room and sat down next to her anyway. As he sank down onto the plush cushion, he placed his hands on his knees and stared straight ahead, unable to look Padmé in the eyes.

"How were the gardens?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"The gardens? Did you see them?"

"Oh, yeah," Anakin said, nodding his head vigorously. He vaguely remembered walking through something which could have been a garden when he had been pacing in circles outside trying to figure out what it was that was going on in his head. "They were nice," he added lamely.

"They are, aren't they? Paddy takes care of them during the year whenever my parents aren't up here in the summer."

Anakin briefly considered asking who Paddy was, but he decided against it. It wasn't like he actually cared to know. "Hey, Padmé? Can I ask you something?" he asked boldly.

"Of course," she said.

Anakin took a deep breath and turned to face Padmé for the first time. At once he was immobilized by Padmé's dark brown eyes, the flickering of the flames reflected on her dilated pupils. What had it been he wanted to ask her? He had no idea anymore.

"Anakin?" she asked, somehow still oblivious to the anguish he was experiencing.

"Do you hate me?" he blurted out, the words coming to his mouth before he even thought of them.

Padmé frowned and leaned back a bit. "What are you talking about?" she asked, clearly perplexed by this question.

"I… I shouldn't have… you know," he stuttered. "I didn't mean to, it just kind of… happened."

Padmé arched an eyebrow quizzically, seemingly amused by his fluster. "Are you talking about what happened earlier?" she asked. Anakin gulped loudly and nodded. For the first time, Padmé's neutral demeanor faltered as she blushed and looked away. "I told you already, I shouldn't have done that," she said brusquely. "Why don't we just move on from it?"

"How can you ask me to do that?" Anakin asked exasperatedly.

"Look, I'm sorry," Padmé said irritably. "What else do you want from me?"

Anakin stared back at her blankly. "You're… sorry?" he repeated. Did that mean she thought he had been offended? Because out of all the things he was feeling, aggrievement certainly wasn't one of them.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Padmé said. "I know it was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Anakin repeated once again.

"Of course it was a mistake!" Padmé said, abruptly standing up off the couch and taking a few agitated steps away from him. "You're training to be a Jedi, Anakin! I shouldn't have made you think that…"

"That you… like me?" Anakin provided when she trailed off.

"That anything can happen between us!" she said instead, spinning around to face him. Anakin's mouth fell open. Was she suggesting that she had feelings for him as well? "I won't allow you to throw away your future for me," she added.

Anakin stood up as well, his awkwardness fading as he understood why Padmé had been so aloof with him this afternoon. No doubt she too had been suffering just as much as he had, yet was far better at hiding it. She was a politician, after all. "Is that what you think?" he asked.

"It's what I know, Anakin," she said. "The Jedi are forbidden from forming attachments and you know it."

"You're wrong," Anakin said brazenly.

"No, I'm not," she said with the stern authority of someone who wasn't used to being contradicted. "If it was ever discovered that there was something between us, you would be expelled from the Order and my political career would be ruined."

Anakin faltered as he considered this latter point. He hadn't ever considered Padmé's circumstances, having been too focused on the rigid restrictions imposed upon him by the code. She was right, however. If the press found out that she was in a relationship with a Jedi Padawan, she would be disgraced.

Anakin scratched the back of his head and looked down. While he could appreciate this, it didn't change his judgement. The way Padmé was talking – as if she was receptive to the idea of being with him were it not for the obstacles in their way – was all he could think about. All of his wildest dreams seemed to be coming true. He wouldn't allow something as silly as _logic _get in the way of him now. No, he was going to lay all his cards on the table right here.

"I respect the Jedi very much," he said, causing Padmé to frown at this apparent non-sequitur. "They are very wise and understand a great many things which I cannot even begin to appreciate. But there's one thing they don't understand, and that's love."

"Anakin –"

"They're afraid of it, you see," Anakin said, speaking over Padmé. "They think it leads to suffering which leads to the dark side. That's what Master Yoda told me when I first was presented to the Council ten years ago."

"Anakin, this isn't what –"

"I wouldn't be the man I am today if it weren't for love, in spite of what the Jedi think," Anakin continued. "In fact, I wouldn't be here at all if the Jedi had had their way."

Padmé blinked a few times, flummoxed by this unexpected statement. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Back when my mother was in the Order, she used to think the way you do," he said as he pivoted and began to walk around the perimeter of the room slowly. "She considered the code as sacrosanct. She never broke the rules, and as a result she rose quickly through the ranks of the Order.

"Why are you telling me this?" Padmé asked, turning her head as she followed him with her eyes.

"That all changed when she fell in love with my father," he said, the fateful words sailing off his tongue. He had done it. For the first time in his life, his secret was revealed and it felt so, so right. It was as if a colossal weight he hadn't realized he had been carrying had just been taken off him.

"Your father?" Padmé repeated. "But I thought…"

"That I didn't have one?" Anakin said. Padmé nodded her head, a deeply confused look imprinted on her face. "That's what the Jedi think," he said. "And that's what everyone is supposed to think. It's not true, though. It's ridiculous, of course. I don't understand why everyone is so able to believe it. Of course I have to have a father. It's not possible not to."

"I don't understand," Padmé said. "Why lie?"

"Because the Jedi forced my family to hide," Anakin growled bitterly. "My parents were not allowed to love each other, yet they did anyway."

Padmé stared at him silently for a few moments. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she held up a hand to her chest. "Qui-Gon is your father, isn't he?" she asked. Now it was Anakin's turn to be caught off guard. He stopped pacing and turned to face her directly, his mouth hanging open in shock. "He must be," she said as she looked away from him and walked back over toward the couch. "Now it all makes sense," she said once she sat back down, her eyes fixated sightlessly on the flames in front of her, clearly deep in thought.

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, deciding not to confirm her suspicions for the moment. How could she have possibly figured it out when the entire Jedi Council hadn't an inkling of an idea?

Padmé suddenly gasped and she looked up at him sharply. "Oh Anakin, that's so tragic!" she exclaimed.

"What is?" he asked.

"That day on Tatooine when we first met! I knew Qui-Gon was acting weird when you took us back to your home and introduced us to your mom. I confronted him about it, but of course he didn't tell me the truth. Ten whole years, he hadn't seen her until then… ten whole years."

"You see how horrible the code is, don't you?" Anakin asked. "It was because of the code that my parents were wrenched apart and I didn't know my father for the first ten years of my life."

Padmé clasped her hands tightly in her lap and looked down, a single tear escaping her eye and falling down her cheek. "Ani, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"I don't care about the rules," Anakin said passionately. "My father didn't let them stop him and I won't either."

"But look at what happened!" Padmé said, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Anakin, your parents' lives were torn apart because they broke the rules!"

"But that doesn't have to happen to us!" Anakin insisted stubbornly.

"No, Anakin, it would!" Padmé cried, her eyes now glistening with tears. "How could it not? You think we would be able to hide from the entire galaxy for our whole lives? It's impossible, Anakin!"

"No, it's not impossible," Anakin growled. "It's only impossible because you're not willing to take the risk."

"Anakin –"

All of a sudden, the incessant sense of dread which had been gnawing at him all day in the back of his mind erupted into red-hot fury. "_I'm done with your lies!_" an unidentifiable yet nonetheless intensely familiar voice shrieked in his mind. Anakin's eyes widened as he balled up his fists, rage coursing through him at something he couldn't even explain.

Through his red-tinged vision, Anakin saw Padmé shy away from him in fear. "Y-your eyes," she stammered as she stumbled backward.

"_Do you hear me? I'm done!_"

"Padmé, wait –"

"_You can't stop me,_"

"Stay away from me!"

Anakin made to follow after Padmé when she sped out of the room, but he found his feet were unresponsive. His whole body was coursing with unprecedented fury. Never before had he felt something like this. It terrified and excited him at the same time…

"_You need me, Elegius,_"

"_I haven't needed you in a long time!_"

Anakin felt himself falling, his unprompted rage whirling around him and dragging him downward into oblivion. He tried to resist it, yet he was unable. He was far too weak in the face of this raw power…

"_You think you are ready, do you?_"

"_I know I am._"

"_You're wrong._"

Anakin's eyes flew open and he regained his senses. He was lying supine on the floor, his whole body covered in a sheen of cool sweat. In spite of the crackling fire, he was shivering terribly, an odious chill lingering in his core. Propping himself up on his elbow, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand and looked around. Padmé was nowhere to be found.

"Padmé?" he called out. "Padmé where are you?"

Panicking now, Anakin leapt to his feet. He was supposed to be protecting her! How could he have let her leave his sights?

He remembered the look of sheer panic on her face. What had happened? Why had she been so afraid of him? They had been talking, he remembered that much. She had rebuffed him, telling him it was too dangerous for anything to happen between them. He had gotten angry. Angrier than he had ever felt before…

Had he hurt her? Anakin's eyes widened in abject terror as he considered this. He had blacked out, after all. Could it be that he had attacked her when he had lost consciousness? He couldn't have! He would never…

Anakin's legs felt wobbly and uncoordinated as he stumbled out of the circular room. "Padmé!" he yelled, desperate to find her. "Where are you?" Rushing through the hallways, he made his way toward the staircase and hurried up the marble steps. Skidding slightly on the slippery floor, Anakin ran to Padmé's bedroom with the same desperation as he had back on Coruscant when he had saved her life.

Reaching her room at the end of the hallway, Anakin all but collided into the door. "Padmé!" he yelled, smashing his fist on the door. "Are you there? Are you alright?"

"Stay away from me, Anakin!" Padmé's cried from beyond the door, her voice laced with fear.

"Padmé, please!" Anakin pleaded. "Whatever I did, I didn't mean it." Padmé didn't answer. He could sense her fear radiating intensely outward, her Force presence wavering and trembling. What had he done to make her so afraid? Feeling disgusted with himself, Anakin stepped away from the door and placed his hand on his forehead. "I'm sorry," he said again. "But you have to believe me, I don't know what happened. Whatever happened, I didn't mean to hurt you."

When Padmé remained silent, Anakin sighed deeply and sagged his shoulders. Taking a step forward, he fell to the ground and pressed his back against the door. He would stay there all night if he had to. Wrapping his arms around his knees, Anakin drooped his head and closed his eyes tight. Focusing on Padmé's Force presence, Anakin was disheartened to see that her fear hadn't been alleviated in the slightest. On the contrary, it seemed to be heightened by his proximity.

Anakin looked back up and sprawled his legs outward. Resting his hands on the back of his head against the door, he exhaled loudly as he got comfortable. This was going to be a long night. "Do you remember what I asked you when I saw you for the first time?" Anakin asked suddenly. When Padmé predictably didn't respond, Anakin smiled faintly and looked down at his feet. "I asked if you were an angel," he said, speaking softly yet clearly so that Padmé could still hear him from beyond the door. "You were the most beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on."

"When we left Naboo ten years ago, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I remember asking my father over and over again if I would ever get to see you again. He wasn't amused by my obsession. I think he knew what was happening and he wanted to nip it in the bud. You see, he didn't want me to fall in love like he did. He doesn't want me to get hurt. I couldn't help it though. Over time, I stopped nagging him about you, but I never forgot you. Not a day went by when I didn't think about you at least once. I know it wasn't healthy, but I couldn't stop myself. In my mind, I placed you on a pedestal and convinced myself that you were the most perfect woman in the whole galaxy.

I had almost lost all hope that I would ever see you again when I learned that we had been assigned to protect you. I was so nervous to finally see you again, as I'm sure you noticed. I was totally tongue-tied because you were everything I remembered and more. I know that it's wrong for me to feel this way, but believe me I have tried to wish away my feelings time and time again. I can't stop myself. I am obsessed with you. I know that sounds terrible, but it's the truth."

Anakin stopped talking as a fresh wave of unsolicited fury washed over him. He bit his tongue hard so as to suppress the urge to shout out, causing blood to pool in his mouth. His limbs trembled and twitched as he fought to maintain control over his faculties. All the while, the voices were screaming, their heated argument reverberating dully in his mind.

"_I'm done calling you my father. You stole ten years of my life from me._"

"_You are being a fool!_"

"_I was, but not anymore. I'm leaving. I have to save him._"

"_Elegius, come back! Elegius! Don't do this!_"

Anakin ceased fidgeting as the voices receded. Taking a deep breath, he regained control over his limbs and over his mind. He had no idea what was happening to him, yet he nonetheless knew that he had to explain himself to Padmé. He couldn't let her think that he had been angry at her or that he wanted to hurt her.

"I just… I just want you to know that I will do everything in my power to protect you," Anakin said, his voice sounding faint and strained to his ears. "I will do anything you ask of me."

Padmé said nothing to this, yet much to his relief he could sense her fear of him begin to ebb. Deciding that there was nothing else he could do, Anakin fell silent as well and hugged his knees to his chest. He had said everything he could. Now it was entirely Padmé's decision whether or not to forgive him for whatever he had done.

Anakin blew air out of his mouth loudly and rested the back of his head against the door as he contemplated what had just happened to him. He used to think that these emotions he experienced were coming from his mother, yet now he was less certain of that. Surely his mother would never have experienced rage such as that before? Whoever that was, they were clearly a dark side user, and an exceptionally powerful one at that.

Elegius. That was the name he recalled. Who could that be? Why was he so strongly connected through the Force with them? Why were they so angry? And who was it that they needed to save?

Anakin had no answers to any of these questions. He resolved that he would attempt to contact his father in the morning to see if he could help explain what it was that was happening to him. He no longer felt ambivalent about seeking his father's advice now that he no longer suspected that his mother had anything to do with this. Yet then again, how could he be so sure of that? It had made so much sense in the past that it had been his mother's emotions he had been feeling. After all, they had _felt_ so much like her. He couldn't explain how he knew, but he just did. This Elegius person didn't feel like his mother, however. So what had changed?

Anakin pondered this unanswerable question for hours as he lay motionless against Padmé's door. At some point he must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew he was woken up rather rudely when the door he had been leaning against opened abruptly. Groaning, Anakin rubbed his eyes and looked up to see that Padmé was standing over him, a blaster in hand trained at his head.

"Woah!" he exclaimed as he held his hands to his face. "Put that away!"

"Not until I can be sure I can trust you," Padmé said icily. "Get up," she ordered.

Anakin blinked a few times in surprise. Perversely enough, he couldn't deny that he was turned on, however. What was wrong with him? Padmé was literally pointing a blaster at his heart and all he could think about was how sexy he thought that was. He really need to get a grip on himself.

"Um… sure," he stammered as he scooted away from her and got to his feet, hands still held in the air. "That is, uh… that is set to stun, right?"

Padmé narrowed her eyes and tilted her head a bit. "Maybe," she said vaguely.

Anakin gulped nervously and nodded. "Alright then," he said. The two of them stared at each other silently for a few moments, sizing one another up. Probing the Force gently, Anakin was unable to detect much coming from Padmé. She was doing an exceptional job at keeping her mind blank and unreadable to him. "So…" he said slowly. "Shall we get something to eat?"

The corner of Padmé's lip twitched in what could have been amusement. "Fine," she said, lowering the blaster slightly. "You lead the way."

"Er… I don't know where to go," Anakin confessed.

"I'll give you instructions," Padmé said coolly.

Anakin considered her for a moment longer before turning around. "Very well," he said as he began walking down the hallway.

"Take a right at the stairs," he heard Padmé say from behind him.

Complying silently, Anakin glanced behind him just to confirm that Padmé was indeed still pointing the blaster at the back of his head. "Are you going to be doing that all day?" he asked as he began descending the stairs.

"If I have to," Padmé said through gritted teeth.

"Okay, this is crazy," Anakin said as he turned around on the stair to face her. "Would you at least tell me why you're threatening to kill me?"

Padmé frowned and gripped the blaster tighter. "Are you serious?" she asked.

"Yes!" Anakin exclaimed. "What did I even do?"

"What did you do? Anakin, your eyes turned yellow and you tried to strangle me!"

Anakin's eyes widened in disbelief. "I… I strangled you?" he repeated, aghast.

"Well no, not really," Padmé said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"I could feel it, Anakin!" she said. "I felt an invisible hand around my throat and I ran. Do you mean to tell me that wasn't you?"

Anakin blinked furiously and looked away. How could that have happened? "And you said my eyes turned yellow?" he asked, unable to look at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Padmé nod.

"I thought you were going to kill me," Padmé said, her voice sounding strained with fear. "Because I didn't… because of what I told you."

Anakin shook his head vigorously and turned back to look at her, his head craned slightly since she was standing on a higher stair than he was. "I swear to you, I didn't mean to do that," he said. "I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at something else."

"Something else?" Padmé repeated skeptically.

"Remember when I told you I can feel my mother's emotions?" Anakin asked. Padmé stared back at him blankly for a moment before arching an eyebrow in confusion. "Whatever I did last night, it wasn't because of you, Padmé," Anakin said, pleading for her to sense the sincerity of his words. "Something happened last night. Something big. And I don't know what it was, but I felt it."

"You mean to say your mom made you try to kill me?" Padmé asked, clearly dubious.

"No, but –"

"But what?"

Anakin sighed and placed his hands on his hips. It was clear Padmé wasn't going to believe him no matter what he said. How could he have messed this up so badly? Why had he had to lose control like that? "I think I should contact my father," Anakin said, deciding to cease his fruitless attempts to convince Padmé of his innocence. "He might know what is going on."

Padmé was silent for a few moments, the blaster still trained on him. While he suspected she didn't believe him in the slightest, he hoped that she would begin to thaw over time when she saw that he was being entirely genuine with her. He had apologized and pled his case, now all he could do was wait and do nothing more to exacerbate the chasm he had so foolishly created between them.

* * *

_Coruscant_

The front door to Qui-Gon's apartment was blown away with an agitated flick of the wrist. Boots crunching on the debris, Shmi strode into her old apartment purposefully and without a hint of nostalgia. She had no time for such debilitating emotions. Not anymore, that is.

As she reached the kitchen, she paused to investigate the scene before her. Her husband's familiar Force signature dominated the compact room, so much so that it was nearly overwhelming for her given how long it had been since she had last been near him. Chiding herself for even considering how long it had been, she pushed the kitchen table aside with another wave of the hand and marched forward toward the sink. Grasping the counter firmly, she closed her eyes and concentrated...

Yes, she could see what happened. She was so attuned to the Force that she could track Qui-Gon's every move and thought. She could tell that he had been frustrated, depressed even. About what, she didn't know and frankly didn't care. All that mattered to her was the powerful ripple of fear and shock that came right after. Someone had caught him by surprise. Qui-Gon hadn't put up a fight, of this she was sure. Did that mean he had gone with this person willingly? If she had interpreted her vision correctly, then she doubted that this was the case.

Two days prior, she had woken up in a cool sweat after having a terrible nightmare. She knew at once that Qui-Gon was in mortal peril and she had to act now if she was going to save him. Plagueis of course had not seen things from her point of view, however. When she had told him she was leaving, he had tried to stop her, but there was nothing he could do. When he had the audacity to try to restrain her with the Force, she had retaliated ruthlessly, strangling him viciously until he begged for mercy. She had contemplated killing him, yet ultimately she had decided against it.

Even after everything, she couldn't pretend as if she didn't appreciate what Plagueis had done for her. With his training, she had completely liberated herself from the chains the Jedi had imposed upon her. Chains which she had never even known about beforehand. Without these constraints, Plagueis had taught her how to tap into her natural-born powers – the powers which he was responsible for endowing her with in the first place. Because of that begrudging appreciation, she had allowed him live. Although perhaps it would have been more merciful for him to kill him and relieve him from that pitiful state of being he was forced to endure.

Either way, she was free from him now. Never again would she call anyone else 'Master." Shmi Skywalker – or as the galaxy would soon know her, Elegius – would forevermore be the one in charge of her destiny. She was done with waiting and training. Sidious would be destroyed and she would regain her family. In order to do that, however, she had to save Qui-Gon from whatever horrible fate she had foreseen for him. Where had his mystery assailant come from and where had they gone?

She could identify the unknown person's Force signature, of course, but that didn't tell her who it was. She was oddly confident of the fact that the person in question was male, but other than that, she had no idea who it could be.

All of a sudden, Shmi stiffened and spun around. She sensed someone approaching. Could it be that the attacker had returned? No, that wasn't the case. Whoever was approaching was clearly a different person. Shmi's hands hesitated over her lightsabers on either side of her belt. Should she kill whomever was about to walk into the kitchen? Logically, she knew that she ought to. She couldn't allow anyone know that she had returned.

Footsteps approached and stopped. No doubt, the person was surprised to find that the front door had been annihilated. "Master?" a voice called out from down the hallway. "Are you there?" Shmi caught her breath and said nothing. She glanced out the window behind the sink and considered jumping out of it. She could survive any fall, of course, as she could use the Force to slow her descent, but she really would rather not have to do that.

Shmi returned her attention to the hallway when the footsteps resumed, approaching ever closer. She had to make a decision now. Should she run or should she attack?

Shmi had no idea why she wasn't acting. For some reason, her instincts were screaming at her to stay where she was when logically she knew that was the one thing she couldn't do. It was if the Force itself was whispering to her, pleading with her to remain stationary. And so she listened to it. Donning her hood so as to obscure her face, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited patiently.

"Master, is everything alright? I saw the door was –"

The bearded gentleman who had just emerged from the hallway stopped abruptly when he saw her. Instantly, he reached down to his belt where she saw a well-polished lightsaber dangling. Shmi was too quick for him, however, as she summoned the weapon, tearing it off his belt and into her outstretched hand.

The man – who she could reasonably assume was a Jedi due to his robes and lightsaber – stumbled backward in surprise and held his hands out front with his palms facing her. "Who are you?" he asked.

"You first," Shmi said.

The Jedi swallowed nervously and lowered his hands. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said. "Jedi Master."

Shmi quirked an eyebrow in surprise. So this was Qui-Gon's Padawan whom she had met briefly on Tatooine all those years ago. She hadn't recognized him what with the beard and flowing hair.

"Who are you?" Obi-Wan asked again.

Shmi smirked and looked down at the lightsaber in her hand. It was well constructed, she noted. Very much like Qui-Gon's, in fact. With a press of a button, she activated the blade and inspected it. The blade was blue much like her own.

Obi-Wan flinched when she activated his lightsaber. "I'm not going to kill you, Kenobi," she said over the gentle hum of the blade.

"Where is Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan asked.

"That is what I would like to know," Shmi said. "I take it you didn't know he had been abducted?"

"Abducted?" Obi-Wan repeated. "But I just spoke to him yesterday!"

"Then it must have happened quite recently," Shmi said, rolling her eyes.

Obi-Wan blinked a few times in rapid succession. "I don't believe you," he said bravely. "Why won't you tell me who you are?"

Shmi deactivated Obi-Wan's blade and threw the hilt back toward him. Surprised, Obi-Wan fumbled it and had to bend over to pick it up off the ground. At once, he activated the weapon and assumed a defensive posture.

"Show your face," Obi-Wan said authoritatively, although the tremor in his voice dulled the intended effect.

Shmi contemplated the fear in Obi-Wan's eyes with melancholy recollection. No doubt, this had been exactly how she had looked when she had walked into Sidious' trap on Jakku. Terrified, helpless, and thoroughly subject to someone else's will. She didn't want anyone to ever feel like that. She didn't want Obi-Wan to fear her like she had feared Sidious.

Shmi raised her hands to her hood and unveiled herself. Obi-Wan's grip on his lightsaber tightened when she did this, but as soon as he saw her face his mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Good to see you again, Obi-Wan," Shmi said to the dumbfounded Jedi. "Now, let's get to work, shall we?"


	13. The Bounty Hunter

_Naboo_

The rest of the morning was filled with tension and uncomfortable silences. While Padmé had finally agreed to put away the blaster, she hadn't done away with her hostile attitude. Given that it was just the two of them, the atmosphere was painfully oppressive to say the least. He had managed to get a brief reprieve when he had excused himself to call his father, but he had been unable to make contact.

Dragging his feet, Anakin returned to the dining room where he had left Padmé, yet found that she was no longer there. Panicking slightly, he spun around fully to see where she had gone. "Padmé?" he called out. "Padmé? Where did you go?" He really was the worst bodyguard in the galaxy, wasn't he?

Anakin stopped himself and took a deep, calming breath. He needed to relax. Padmé wasn't in any danger. He would have sensed something if she was. Closing his eyes, he reached out into the Force and attempted to locate her. His feet began to move on their own accord as he detected Padmé's Force presence. He found himself walking toward the main foyer and outside onto the patio where he and Padmé had kissed the day prior.

Walking out the front door, Anakin saw Padmé kneeling over a wicker basket which she seemed to be packing. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Startled, Padmé leapt to her feet to see him standing a few feet away. Anakin winced and looked away, hating himself for the terrified expression he saw in Padmé's eyes. "None of your business," she said stiffly.

"Actually, it is," he said irritably. "I'll remind you that I am supposed to be protecting you."

Padmé snorted humorlessly. "You're doing a great job of that, aren't you?" she said acrimoniously.

Anakin bit his tongue and forced himself not to offer a snide retort. "What's that for?" he asked instead, pointing at the basket.

Padmé glanced down at the half-packed basket. "It's for a picnic," she said, chin raised high in defiance.

"A picnic?" Anakin repeated, sure he had misheard her.

"Yes, a picnic," she said defensively. "I wanted to go down to the valley."

"Were you intending on doing this alone?" Anakin asked.

"Yes," she said at once.

Anakin shook his head and took a step toward her. "You know I can't let you do that," he said.

"What, am I your prisoner now?" she asked.

"No, Padmé –"

"You know what? Forget it. I don't want to go anyway. It's stupid."

"Padmé, stop," Anakin pleaded as she kicked the basket and made to storm past him. When she didn't acknowledge him, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Let go of me!" she demanded.

"No," Anakin responded with equal vigor. "If you want to go, then we're going to go."

"I told you, I don't want –"

"We are having a picnic!" Anakin bellowed, his face flushed red as he realized how ridiculous this argument was.

"No, we're not!"

"Yes, we are!"

Padmé stared daggers at him for a moment longer before wrenching her arm out of his grasp. "Fine," she spat. "If you insist."

Anakin reached down and picked up the basket. Standing back upright, he met Padmé's withering glare with a triumphant smirk. "Lead the way, my lady," he said.

Padmé sneered and pushed past him once again, this time toward the stairs leading down off the patio. Anakin hesitated for a moment as he watched her stride away with heavy footsteps. If the vitriol in her voice was an indicator of how things were going to be between them from now on, Anakin knew he had a lot of work to do to win her back. Yet he knew he was more than up for the task. He would show her that she could trust him, and hopefully if everything went right, that she could perhaps come to love him as well.

* * *

_Coruscant_

"Something the matter?" Shmi asked the flabbergasted Obi-Wan, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"How?" he finally managed to ask. "How did you get here?"

"With a speeder," she deadpanned.

"But –"

"I don't have time for this, Kenobi," she interrupted. "I came back to save Qui-Gon. I take it you have no idea where he was taken?" Obi-Wan shook his head, too dumbfounded to speak. Growling, Shmi clenched her fists angrily. Why had she decided to stay? It was clear that Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to help her. Now she was in the unfortunate position of having to kill him.

"He could have been taken by the bounty hunter."

Shmi took a step toward Obi-Wan, causing him to shy away in fright. "What bounty hunter?" she asked lowly.

Obi-Wan gulped audibly and met her intense glare with wide eyes. "I – I don't know his name, but I think I know how to find out," he stammered.

Shmi took another intimidating step toward him, her eyes narrowed as she stared up at Obi-Wan's petrified ones. "Tell me," she ordered.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, yet stopped. "I… I need to go back to the Temple," he said eventually. "The Council needs to know that –"

"The Council doesn't need to know anything," Shmi interrupted in an ominous tone.

"But if Qui-Gon is in danger –"

"The Council won't be able to do anything to rescue him," she said. "Only I can."

"You don't know that," Obi-Wan said.

Shmi's face twitched irritably, causing Obi-Wan's anxiety to heighten even further. "If you go to the Jedi with this information, your master will die," she said. "You don't want that to happen, do you?"

"Of course not, but –"

"Then you will tell me everything I need to know to save him, starting with this bounty hunter."

Obi-Wan bit his lower lip and looked away, conflict etched across his handsome face. "Look, I doubt it's even connected."

"Tell me," she demanded through gritted teeth.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment longer before nodding. Reaching into his pocket, he produced what looked like a dart and extended it out to her. Swiping it out of his hand, she turned away and held the dart up to the fluorescent light.

"This was a poisonous dart used to kill a hired assassin by the name of Zam Wesell," Obi-Wan told her as she turned the dart over in her hand. "I was assigned to protect a senator who had been the target of an assassination attempt, and Qui-Gon and, erm… his Padawan were assisting me."

Shmi lowered her hand and looked back toward Obi-Wan. "His Padawan?" she repeated. "You mean to say he's taken another one?"

"You didn't know?" Obi-Wan asked. When Shmi glared at him contemptuously, Obi-Wan elaborated. "He took your son as his Padawan learner nearly ten years ago," he said.

Shmi's previously stormy eyes widened in surprise. "The Council allowed that?" she asked.

"Er, not exactly, but Qui-Gon was anything if not persistent."

Shmi was unable to prevent a smile from gracing her lips as she looked away. That sounded like the Qui-Gon she knew and loved: stubborn, defiant, and endlessly persistent.

"I know, by the way," Obi-Wan said unexpectedly.

"You know what?" she asked, the ghost of a smile vanishing in an instant.

"That you and Qui-Gon were married and that he is Anakin's father," Obi-Wan said.

Shmi stared back at him silently for a few moments as she processed this information. "Who else knows?" she asked finally.

"Nobody," Obi-Wan said at once. "I found out the truth ten years ago, but I kept Qui-Gon's secret for his sake."

Shmi's eyebrow twitched upward in surprise. She hardly knew anything about Obi-Wan, but if what he told her was true, it was clear he was extremely loyal to his former master. That would undeniably be an asset to her in the future.

Deciding that she was wasting time discussing this triviality, she handed the dart back to Obi-Wan and began pacing in front of him. "Tell me more about the bounty hunter," she said impassively.

Obi-Wan faltered for a brief moment, evidently surprised that she hadn't asked any more about Qui-Gon and Anakin. Internally, she wanted nothing more than to barrage Obi-Wan with questions about them, but she knew that she didn't have time for that. Perhaps sometime later.

"The Jedi Archives were unable to identify to origin of the dart, but I was able to track it down with the assistance of a friend of mine," Obi-Wan said. "That's why I came here in the first place. To tell Qui-Gon the news."

"And what was the news?" she asked.

"That the dart comes from a planet called Kamino. What's even more strange is that this system seems to not be anywhere within the Jedi Archives."

"That's impossible," Shmi said at once.

"That's what I thought, but it's true," Obi-Wan said. "A Jedi must have deleted it from the inside."

Intrigued, Shmi ceased pacing and turned to look directly at Obi-Wan. "And you think it's possible this bounty hunter is responsible for abducting Qui-Gon?" she asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea," he said. "I don't see why he would have targeted Qui-Gon at all."

"Well, it's a start," Shmi said. "Do you know how to find this system?"

"I do," Obi-Wan affirmed with a bob of his head.

"Then let's get going," she said.

Obi-Wan looked as if he was going to object, but wisely decided against it. Instead he said: "My ship only has room for one."

"No matter," Shmi dismissed with a wave of her hand. "We'll take my ship."

"You have a ship?" he asked.

"How do you think I got here?" she asked sharply.

"Erm… I don't know," Obi-Wan murmured.

Shmi rolled her eyes and marched past Obi-Wan toward the hallway. "Come on!" she called out behind her when Obi-Wan didn't follow her right away. "Let's go!"

She could sense Obi-Wan's reluctance, yet nonetheless he complied and followed after her. She would have to keep a close eye on her newfound companion. He could be useful to her in the immediate future, but if he attempted to contact the Jedi Council in spite of her threats, she would have to eliminate him. They could not be alerted to her presence. For now, that is. In time, they would come to learn of her return and in time they would come to fear her. She had long since abandoned the fantasy that the Jedi could be allies to her. From now on, she had to consider them as her enemy.

* * *

_Naboo_

"So is that it? You're not going to talk to me anymore?" Anakin asked.

Padmé didn't look at him as they continued to plod down the trail. Tall green-bladed grass rose up past their ankles on either side of them as they descended into a picturesque valley. A series of magnificent, white-misted waterfalls dominated the scene in the distance. The gentle rumble of the water provided the only sound beside their own footsteps. Padmé hadn't said a word to him up to this point. When she predictably didn't answer his question, Anakin sighed and looked away from her.

"It really is beautiful here," he commented, more to himself than anything. "You know, I've always wanted to come back to Naboo. Coming from a desert planet, seeing Naboo for the first time was a magical experience for me."

Silence prevailed. They continued onward for a few dozen more meters before Padmé abruptly turned right off the trail. Swerving to keep up with her, Anakin nearly dropped the heavy basket which he had been carrying. Padmé didn't pay any attention to him as she unfolded the red blanket she had been carrying under her arm. Setting it down on the grass, she stepped on the blanket a few times to crush the grass underneath.

"This is a nice spot," Anakin said blithely as he set the basket down and rotated his head to take in the view. "I take it you've been here before?"

Padmé nodded and sat down on the blanket, her yellow dress billowing upward as she rested her legs underneath her. "My parents used to take us here when we were children," she said.

Anakin smiled as he sat down as well. So she could speak after all! "Tell me more," he said earnestly.

"Why should you care?" she asked, giving him a sour look.

"I want to know, Padmé," he said honestly. "Everything about you fascinates me."

Padmé blushed and looked away quickly. Frowning at her reaction, Anakin reached into the basket and produced the sandwich Padmé had packed. Unsurprisingly, there was only one given that she hadn't planned on him coming along with her in the first place. "Do you want this?" he asked.

Padmé turned back at him and glanced at the sandwich. "Thanks," she murmured, reaching out and swiping the sandwich from his hand. Sighing, she unwrapped it and set it down on the blanket next to her. "I haven't been here in so long," she said. "It looks just like how I remembered it, though."

"That's how I felt when I saw you for the second time last week," Anakin said. "But you were even more beautiful than I recalled."

Padmé groaned exasperatedly. "Just stop it, Anakin," she said.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"You know what," she said irritably.

Deflated, Anakin looked down at the sandwich in between them and frowned once again. Perhaps a new tactic was needed if he was going to win her over. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll try to… control myself."

"Thank you," she said. An awkward silence followed as Padmé reached down and picked up the sandwich. She inspected it for a few moments before taking a tentative bite.

"What's wrong?" Anakin asked when she made a face.

"Nothing, I'm just not hungry I guess," she said, setting the sandwich down quickly.

"You mind if I eat that then?" Anakin asked. Padmé gave him a bemused look, as if she couldn't fathom that someone would actually asked her that. Perhaps it wasn't surprising that a former queen and current senator would be caught off guard by such an innocuous question. All of a sudden, however, Padmé's irritated expression morphed into a vivacious smile when Anakin's stomach rumbled audibly.

"What?" Anakin asked defensively when she began to laugh. "I'm hungry, okay?"

Giggling uncontrollably now, Padmé covered her mouth with her right hand and waved her left toward the sandwich. Interpreting this as permission to take it, Anakin scooped up the sandwich and took a bite. "Oh, wow," he said after he had swallowed. "That's really good."

"You think so?" Padmé asked upon recomposing himself.

"Absolutely," Anakin said as he took another bite.

Padmé's mouth twitched as if she was trying to stop herself from smiling. "Nobody's ever said that about any food I've ever made before," she said.

"I can't imagine you've had to cook for yourself much," Anakin commented.

"No, not really," she said, giving him a disapproving look as crumbs fell down onto his shirt. Transferring the sandwich to his other hand, Anakin hastily wiped the crumbs away and gave Padmé a winsome smile. She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was more amused than offended.

"My dad is a great cook," Anakin said as he set the half-eaten sandwich down.

"Oh yeah?" Padmé said skeptically. "He doesn't strike me as the culinary sort."

"He wasn't, but he taught himself how to when he was younger," Anakin told her. "He said he only did it because he thought my mom would fall for him if he could cook. Turned out it worked, I guess."

Padmé's smile wavered and she looked away. "How is Qui… I mean, your father?" she asked. "It sounds like he really loved your mother, and he hasn't been able to see her for practically twenty years."

Anakin felt the levity which he had worked so hard to create dissipate in a second. "I don't know, honestly," he said with a heavy sigh. "We don't talk about her much. I think it's too painful for him."

"I'm sorry," Padmé said candidly.

"That's why I had to tell you," Anakin said. "I just… needed someone else to talk to. The only other person who knew was Obi-Wan and he's not really easy to talk to. I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore, though."

Padmé contemplated his face silently for a moment. "I do want to talk to you, Ani," she said, using his nickname for the first time in a long while. For the first time, he wasn't annoyed by the name. Instead, he viewed it as an encouraging sign. Perhaps she was beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around him. "But I don't want to lead you on either," she said. "Do you understand?"

Anakin nodded his head a bit lugubriously. "I know," he said heavily. "I wish I could be happy with just being your friend. Believe me, I do. I just can't." Once again, Padmé looked uncomfortable and wouldn't make eye contact with him. "Sorry," he said again. "I'll stop talking about this now."

Padmé shook her head and turned back to look at him. "No, Anakin, I –"

All of a sudden, both of them swiveled their heads when they heard a strange sound in the distance. Anakin bit his tongue, frustrated by the disturbance. It had seemed as Padmé was going to tell him something then, but now he wouldn't know what that was.

"Shaaks," Padmé said with an irritated huff. "Typical."

"What's wrong?" Anakin asked as he followed her gaze to see a trio of ridiculous-looking, potato-shaped creatures approaching. "They seem harmless."

"They are, but they smell horrible," Padmé said, making a face.

"I'm sure they won't bother us," Anakin said. As soon as he said that, however, the shaaks began lumbering over toward them, their elongated noses fixated on the ground as they mowed through the grass.

"You were saying?" Padmé jested.

"They don't smell that bad," he said as the shaaks came even closer. "It smelled way worse in Mos Espa all the time."

"That's fair," Padmé said, her displeased expression deepening as she recalled the offensively noisome stench of the Mos Espa streets.

"Hey, I bet I could ride one of them," Anakin said suddenly.

"What?"

Before Padmé could stop him, Anakin jumped to his feet and jogged away through the thick grass toward the shaaks. He had no idea what had inspired him to do something so objectively stupid, but he was doing it nonetheless. Maybe he thought it would impress Padmé? It probably wouldn't, if he was being honest with himself. She was far too cultured to be amused by such a juvenile stunt.

"Anakin!" he heard Padmé call out from behind him. "Come back! You could get hurt!"

Anakin ignored her and continued approaching the shaaks. Circling around one so that he was facing its backside, Anakin bent his knees and leapt into the air. Using the Force to aid him, he landed squarely on the unsuspecting shaak's back. Flexing his core muscles to stabilize himself, Anakin straddled the shaak and stood upright on the creature's back. Clearly irritated by this uninvited rider, the shaak reared upward on its hind legs and began running at a speed Anakin hadn't anticipated such a cumbersome creature could possess. Holding his arms out at his sides, Anakin managed to stay atop the shaak for a few moments longer before he felt himself get thrust off the the creature's back and into the air. Twisting gracefully as he plummeted down to the ground, Anakin was able to brace his fall with his hands as he landed in the soft grass.

"Ani?" he heard Padmé call out. "Ani, are you alright?"

As he heard her running toward him, Anakin decided to milk this opportunity for all it was worth. Rather than pushing himself upward like he had been about to do, he instead flopped forward and landed flat on his face in the grass. He could sense a jolt of fear rippling through the Force emanating from Padmé, and Anakin felt slightly guilty for having inflicted unnecessary anxiety upon her. Even so, he was encouraged by how strongly he felt Padmé's fear. It showed that she did still care for him, despite the bellicose act she had put on earlier that morning.

Padmé fell to her knees beside him and flipped him over. Her deeply concerned expression transformed into mock vexation when she saw that he was completely fine. Laughing uproariously at her reaction, Anakin's mirth was cut short when Padmé slapped at his chest.

"I can't believe you!" she exclaimed as she look another swing at him. This time, Anakin caught her wrist and pushed her away. Rolling on top of her, Anakin was surprised when Padmé responded in kind as she managed to carry her momentum and pull him off her. They rolled a few more times through the grass in this fashion, all the while laughing hysterically. When their inertia ran out, Padmé was back on top and was looking down at him with a huge smile. A few strands of her curly hair escaped from the buns on either side of her head and dangled centimeters over Anakin's nose.

Both of their smiles faded in an instant as they realized the awkward intimacy of the situation. While Anakin would have been more than content to stay where he was, Padmé was far less comfortable. Clearly flustered, she brushed her hair out of Anakin's face and leapt to her feet by pushing off his chest with her hands to propel herself upward.

"We should go back," she said once she had regained her footing and began to flatten out her rumpled dress.

"But we just got here!" Anakin protested as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Padmé didn't listen to him, however. Spinning around, she rushed away from him with similar haste to how she had left him after their kiss on the porch the day prior. Struggling into a seated position, Anakin's shoulders sagged in dejection as he watched her streak away from him, her yellow dress flowing behind her as she pushed through the grass and back toward the trail.

* * *

_Hyperspace en-route to Kamino_

"Get comfortable, why don't you," Shmi said sarcastically when she returned to the main hold from the cockpit.

Startled, Obi-Wan's legs flew off the couch which they had previously been draped on. Jumping to his feet as if saluting to a commanding officer, Obi-Wan's eyes widened in fear as she approached.

"You need to calm down, Kenobi," she said as she walked around a white leather chair and sat down, one leg rested casually atop the other in a manner reminiscent to her old friend Dooku's. It was only appropriate that she do this. After all, this was one of Dooku's own ships which he had lent to Plagueis many years ago. Now it was hers.

"Sorry," Obi-Wan said hastily as he sat back down, this time his feet planted firmly on the floor.

"We should arrive at Kamino shortly," Shmi informed her antsy companion. Obi-Wan nodded a few times yet seemed unable to say anything. Feeling frustrated with his attitude, Shmi placed her hands on her elevated knee and leaned back against the chair. "Why are you so afraid of me?" she asked bluntly.

"Because… you're scary?" Obi-Wan said, sounding like a school child who was trying to give the answer he thought the teacher wanted to hear.

Shmi frowned as she scratched her left temple. She was scary? Since when had anyone ever been afraid of her? Outside of the time she had strangled Plagueis, that is. Her diminutive stature and formerly reserved temperament had rendered her about unintimidating as a person could be. Evidently her years of secluded training in the dark side had changed that perception.

"Fair enough," she said, attempting to sound blasé. Borrowing another move from Dooku, Shmi glanced down at her cuticles and inspected them with detached interest as she waited for Obi-Wan to say something. For nearly a full minute, she contemplated her phantom hangnail and had nearly conceded that Obi-Wan wasn't going to say anything when he finally spoke.

"I don't know if you care to know this, but your son and I are very good friends," he said. "I'd reckon I'm his best friend, in fact."

Shmi looked up at Obi-Wan sharply, causing Obi-Wan's eyes to dart away in fright. "How is he?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice casual when in reality she was desperate for information. She wanted to know anything and everything about her son, but she couldn't allow Obi-Wan to see just how desperate she really was. She couldn't allow him to see any weaknesses.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips as he contemplated this question. "It's hard to say," he said eventually. "He keeps his cards close to his chest, just like his father. He seems well, but I suspect he still misses you."

Shmi's heart ached at these words, forcing her to look away quickly so that Obi-Wan wouldn't see the sorrow in her eyes. "What does he… what does he look like now?" she asked in a strained voice.

"He's quite tall, actually," Obi-Wan said. "It took a while for him to grow, but when he did he shot right up. He's a little shorter than Qui-Gon now." Shmi smiled as she looked down at her hands which were clasped tightly in her lap. She had always known her son would be tall, even before she had known Qui-Gon was his father. Perhaps it was her subconscious which had known that fact all along.

"He's a bit skinny, but he's nothing if not a voracious eater," Obi-Wan continued with a slight chuckle.

"What else can you tell me?" Shmi asked, famished for any sort of information.

Obi-Wan tilted his head as he thought of something to say. "Let's see… he's got short hair now. The Jedi made him get rid of that shaggy bowl cut style he had going on. He's got a Padawan braid as well, of course, which reaches a bit past his shoulder. He carries a blue lightsaber, although I'm pretty sure Qui-Gon hoped he would choose green."

"He's a smart one," Shmi interjected. "Blue crystals clearly produce superior blades."

Obi-Wan laughed a bit at this. As a fellow wielder of a blue blade, she knew Obi-Wan would appreciate this comment. There was a long-standing rivalry at the Temple between Padawans with blue blades and those with green blades. Although Jedi Knights and Masters insisted they didn't care for such frivolous discrepancies, she knew that the rivalry persisted amongst the elder Jedi nonetheless.

"I'll have you know that I think of him as a younger brother in many ways," Obi-Wan said suddenly. "I won't pretend like we don't have our differences or our fair share of arguments, but deep down I know he looks up to me."

For the first nine years of his life, Shmi had always wished that her son could have had a male figure to look up to, whether it be a father or an older friend. She feared that she wasn't sufficient and that by isolating him she would somehow stunt his development. While she was grateful that he had formed such a close bond to his father and to Obi-Wan, now she feared the opposite. How had her Anakin fared for ten years without her? Surely he needed her, didn't he?

"Where is he now?" she asked. "I know he wasn't on Coruscant. I would have sensed him."

"He's not," Obi-Wan affirmed. "He's on Naboo right now."

"Naboo?" Shmi repeated. "What is he doing there? And why wasn't Qui-Gon with him?"

Obi-Wan suddenly looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Well… the Jedi actually decided to remove Qui-Gon from the assignment of protecting the senator after there was a second attempt on her life."

"What? Why would they do that?" Shmi asked, instantly indignant on her husband's behalf.

"Qui-Gon said it was because the Council suspects he has a connection to Count Dooku whom they suspect is behind the assassination attempts," Obi-Wan explained as he tapped his foot nervously against the ground.

"That's absurd!" Shmi exclaimed. "Qui-Gon hasn't spoken to Dooku in over a decade!"

"That's what he said, but the Council doesn't seem to care," Obi-Wan said. "Oddly, the Council decided to keep Anakin on the mission even though his master no longer was a part of it. As a consequence, Anakin was tasked with protecting the senator while I went searching after the bounty hunter behind the assassination attempt."

"So he's there all alone with this senator?" Shmi asked. When Obi-Wan nodded the affirmative, Shmi shook her head angrily. "That's preposterous!" she said. "A Padawan should never have an assignment without his or her master!"

"I agree entirely," Obi-Wan said. "But the Council trusts Anakin enough to do it anyway."

Far from assuaged by this assessment, Shmi stood upright and began pacing agitatedly in front of Obi-Wan. "And who is this senator, anyway?" she asked.

Obi-Wan smiled thinly. "Someone I believe you were once acquainted with, albeit only briefly," he said. "Padmé Amidala."

At first, Shmi didn't recognize the name and she stared blankly at Obi-Wan for a few moments. Then it dawned upon her who he was talking about. "The handmaiden became a senator?" she asked, perplexed by this unorthodox career trajectory.

"She never actually was a handmaiden," Obi-Wan said. When Shmi quirked an eyebrow in confusion, he elaborated. "She was traveling incognito while on Tatooine. She was actually the Queen of Naboo at the time."

Shmi's bemusement transformed into surprise, causing the other eyebrow to rise as her eyes widened. "I see," she said. "I take it she and Anakin get along well? He adored her those few days while they were with us on Tatooine."

Once again, Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable with this question. "Er… I don't know, to be frank," he said. "They hadn't seen each other for ten years, and Anakin was clearly… flustered when they met again."

"Flustered?" Shmi repeated. "How so?"

"I think he's still enamored with her," Obi-Wan said, wringing his wrists. "If you ask me, it's a bit unhealthy."

Shmi was unsure how to react to this news. On the one hand, she felt a wave of melancholy at the realization that her little boy was not so little anymore. While he surely had had a crush on Padmé on Tatooine, there had never been any romantic aspirations on his part. How could there have been? He had been nine years old. Now, everything was far more complicated. Could it be that her son had fallen in love with this woman? She certainly hoped not for his sake. If he had, however, hopefully he was smart enough not to act on his feelings given that any relationship between them would surely end in heartbreak and misery. Unfortunately, she could not be so optimistic. If Anakin was anything like his father – and it seemed he was very much like him, indeed – then he would stop at nothing to try and win Padmé over just like how Qui-Gon had done to her.

As she sat there contemplating this, she felt simultaneous sharp pangs of sorrow and self-loathing. Anakin had had to navigate the latter half of his adolescence without her. While she could take solace in the fact that he had had Qui-Gon by his side, this didn't absolve her of the guilt she felt. It had been her fault that she hadn't been there for him. She had come to appreciate this over the course of the past few days. She had wasted away years of her life training under Plagueis. She had justified it at the time by telling herself that this was the only way to keep Anakin safe. Only when Sidious was defeated would any of them ever be safe. Yet now she didn't care about that. She wanted to be a part of her son's life, whether they were in peril or not. Learning about her son through Obi-Wan's account was devastating for her. She shouldn't have to find out what her son was like through a second hand source. She should have been by his side. She had allowed Plagueis to manipulate her mind, and now she had lost so much.

Perhaps the only person who could fully appreciate how horrible she felt was Qui-Gon. He too had lost ten years of his son's life. Although in his case, it wasn't his fault. Even so, she intrinsically knew that Qui-Gon would have felt the same guilt that she was feeling now when he found out for the first time that Anakin was his son. The prospect of losing Qui-Gon was therefore doubly terrible for her. Should her visions come to be and he did indeed die, not only would she have lost the person whom she loved, but she also would have lost the only person in the whole galaxy who could understand and perhaps ameliorate her suffering.

But that wasn't going to happen. Qui-Gon wasn't going to die. She would make sure of that. She would stop at nothing to rescue him from whatever fate awaited him.

A blaring sound roused Shmi from her musings. Looking up, she saw a flashing red light emanating from the technical station in the corner of the main hold. "We must be close to Kamino," she said as she stood up from her seat and began walking back toward the cockpit. From behind her, she heard Obi-Wan stand up as well and follow her out of the main hold.

Just as she arrived in the cockpit, the ship lurched forward as the computer automatically exited hyperspace at the coordinates Obi-Wan had given her. Sitting down in the pilot's chair, Shmi looked out the window to see a dull blue orb in the distance. "Kamino?" she asked to Obi-Wan who had sat down next to her in the co-pilot's seat.

"I sure hope so," Obi-Wan said as he strapped himself in. Upon reassuming manual control over the ship, Shmi guided the vessel toward the mystery planet and into the stormy atmosphere. Heavy rain began to pelt the window as the ship dipped beneath the dark grey clouds. Given that neither of them knew where specifically to go on the planet, Shmi decided to land the ship on the first visibly inhabited landmass she came across. This proved to be more difficult than it seemed. The planet seemed to be entirely covered in tempestuous waves.

Finally, they approached what looked like a city, the bright white lights of the buildings cheerily illuminating the bleak and saturnine conditions of the surrounding ocean. A conveniently placed landing platform confirmed to Shmi that they had come to the right place. The blistery winds and incessant rain rendered the landing a bit difficult, especially for Shmi who had never prided herself for her piloting abilities. Finally, she managed to set the ship down successfully after a third go.

"Come on," she said to Obi-Wan as she unbuckled herself and stood up. "Let's find out what we've gotten ourselves into."

Both Obi-Wan and Shmi donned their hoods as they made their way towards the exit. Pressing a button, the door opened and a ramp began to unfurl down to the landing platform. A flash of lightning irradiated the sky as the two made their way down the ramp, both wrapping their loose robes around them tightly so as to prevent them from flapping in the ferocious gale. They encountered no one as they walked off the landing platform toward a set of glass doors. Upon reaching the doors, they slid open and granted them access. As they stepped inside the building, the doors closed behind them silently, and with it the sounds of the torrid storm all but disappeared.

To her left, she saw Obi-Wan take off his hood, but Shmi elected to keep hers on so as to hide her identity. Looking around, she saw that they had entered a bizarrely pristine and featureless white hallway. "What is this place?" Obi-Wan asked.

Shmi didn't respond. Instead, both her and Obi-Wan's heads spun to the right where they saw an alien walking toward them. The pale-skinned creature was extremely tall and had an elongated neck wrapped in a light blue scarf. Shmi instinctively reached toward her belt underneath her soaking robes as the stranger approached.

"Welcome Masters. I am Taun We," the alien said in a soothing, monotone voice. "The Prime Minister is expecting you."

"We're expected?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding as if he was struggling to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Shmi was no less bewildered than her Jedi companion. What was going on?

"Of course," Taun We said with a slight bow of her long neck. "He is anxious to meet you. After all these years, we were beginning to think you weren't coming. Now please, this way."

Shmi and Obi-Wan glanced at each other briefly before following their mysterious host down the sterile hallway. As they walked, Shmi contemplated the wisdom of staying here much longer. She knew the second they had arrived that Qui-Gon wasn't here. She would have sensed him if he were. Even so, she couldn't deny that she wasn't curious about what was happening in this facility. Something told her that it was important. But would it be important to her? She couldn't see how, but perhaps it would be wise to be a bit more patient. Besides, they still needed to find this bounty hunter. In spite of Obi-Wan's doubts, she suspected that this bounty hunter was indeed linked to Qui-Gon somehow. She just had to find out how.

Reaching the end of a brilliantly lit white hallway, a set of wide, oval-shaped doors opened to reveal a circular room. Situated in the center of the room was a white chair which looked very much like a soup ladle. Once they entered, an alien similar to their guide stood up and walked over to greet them.

"May I present to you Lama Su, Prime Minister of Kamino," Taun We said when they came to a stop in front of the other alien. Shmi and Obi-Wan both bowed before the Prime Minister who reciprocated the gesture without hesitation. "And this is Master Jedi…?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Obi-Wan provided. The Prime Minister bowed once again to Obi-Wan and then turned his gaze to Shmi.

"You don't need to know my name," she said with a wave of her hand. "And nor do you," she added for good measure to Taun We.

Accepting her suggestion without objection, the Prime Minister nodded to her as well. As he looked back at Obi-Wan, Shmi saw that he had a slightly dazed and glassy look in his dark eyes. This was a common indicator that someone had just been manipulated by a Jedi mind trick like Lama Su just had been. "I trust you will enjoy your stay here," he said to them. Turning around, he returned to his seat and flicked his wrist. A pair of identical chairs descended from the ceiling. "Please," the Prime Minister said, gesturing to the chairs once he had been seated.

Obi-Wan and Shmi sat down in the curious chairs and watched as Taun We strode out of the room with a languid yet elegant gait. "And now to business," the Prime Minister said. "You will be delighted to hear that we are on schedule." Shmi glanced at Obi-Wan who was staring blankly at the Prime Minister, clearly as puzzled as she was. "Two hundred thousand units are ready with a million more well on the way."

"That's… good news," Obi-Wan said.

"Please tell your master Sifo-Dyas that his order will be met on time."

Shmi remembered that name, albeit vaguely. He had been a Jedi Master back when she had been in the Order. What did he have to do with this place?

"I'm sorry, Master…?"

Perplexed by Obi-Wan's lack of familiarity with the name, Lama Su frowned and tilted his head back a bit. "Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas is still a leading member of the Jedi Council, is he not?" he asked.

Obi-Wan blinked a few times, clearly taken aback by this question. With a quick glance toward Shmi, he returned his attention to Lama Su with a solemn expression. "Master Sifo-Dyas was killed almost ten years ago," he told him.

"Oh," the Prime Minister said. "I am so sorry to hear that. But I'm sure he would have been proud of the army we've built for him."

"Army?" Shmi said, interjecting herself into the conversation. "What army?"

The Prime Minister turned to her, his white pupils sparkling in the intense artificial light. "The clone army," he said with a flourish of his three-fingered hand. "And I must say, one of the finest we've ever created."

"Who is this army for?" Shmi asked.

"Why, for the Republic, of course," the Prime Minister said.

Utterly bewildered by this point, Shmi leaned back in her seat and stroked her chin pensively much like her former master Mace Windu did so often. What need did the Republic have of an army? And why had a Jedi Master been the one to order it when no one else seemingly had any knowledge of him doing it?

"You must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself," Lama Su said, oblivious to his guests' confusion.

"That's… why we're here," Obi-Wan said with a nervous chuckle.

The Prime Minister smiled thinly and stood up. Obi-Wan and Shmi followed suit and fell into step with him as he walked out of the circular room and back toward the hallway. When they reached a bifurcation in the hallway, Shmi stopped walking and grabbed Obi-Wan's forearm. "You stay with him and find out more about this army," she instructed in a whisper. "I'm going to go have a look around."

"Is there a problem?"

Obi-Wan and Shmi turned to see Lama Su staring at them expectantly. "Of course not," Obi-Wan said hastily.

The Prime Minister's oval-shaped eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion, but he turned around nonetheless and resumed walking to the left. "I'll see if I can find out any information about this bounty hunter," Shmi said quietly. Obi-Wan nodded and spun around, jogging slightly in order to catch up with the Prime Minister. Shmi watched their figures recede for a moment before turning and walking in the opposite direction. She took turns at random, allowing her intuition to guide her through the unfamiliar and frankly perturbing facility. Everything about this place made her uneasy. The sooner they were able to leave the better, she reckoned.

After wandering more or less aimlessly for a few minutes, Shmi came across another pristine white corridor identical to all the others she had seen to that point. Even so, she felt as if she had found something crucial, even if she couldn't explain why. Her senses guided her toward a door on the right sight of the hallway. She noted that this doorway was far shorter than the previous ones she had seen, so much so that a Kaminoan would have had to duck to enter. Whomever resided beyond that door was not a native.

With a wave of her hand, the door opened. Stepping inside, Shmi found herself in a small apartment, not unlike Qui-Gon's except for the bright white aesthetic which seemed to be ubiquitous in this facility. She paused when the door closed behind her, sensing that she was not alone. Muffled voices originating from somewhere in the room directly in front of her ceased abruptly when the heard the door close.

"Stay here," she heard a male voice say.

Shmi wrapped her still-damp robes around her tightly as she waited to be greeted, or perhaps confronted. Ensuring that her face was still properly veiled by her hood, Shmi then reached under her robes and placed a precautionary hand on one of her lightsabers. Just as she wrapped her hand around the cool metal of the hilt, a man appeared in the hallway.

"Who are you?" he asked stiffly. Shmi didn't respond, electing to size up the man in front of her instead. His tanned and sinewy forearms were crossed in front of his broad chest, indicating that he disapproved of her rude entrance yet didn't consider her as much of a threat. She could understand why he might feel that way, given that a blaster was strapped into a holster on his right thigh. It was clear that this man at some point had been a soldier if he wasn't still one. That begged the question, however: what was he doing here?

"You first," Shmi said after a tenuous silence.

The man's eyes widened a bit in surprise, clearly having not expected her to be a woman. Overcoming his initial shock, the man shook his head and reached down to unholster his blaster. "I'll give you three seconds to tell me who you are or I'll blast a whole in your chest," he said. In spite of the severity of his tone, Shmi couldn't help but chuckle. It was amusing to her that this man thought he was in control of the situation. Displeased by her reaction, the man flipped the safety and pointed the blaster directly at her. "Three, two, one…"

Just as the man pressed the trigger, Shmi flicked her wrist and sent his blaster careening out of his hand and into the wall. Sent off course, the bolt went flying upwards, leaving a nasty gash mark in the previously immaculate white ceiling. The man barely had time to register his surprise when Shmi pulled him into the air by his throat much like how she had done with Plagueis.

"Tell me your name," she said with ominous calm as the man flailed in the air, his hands clawing at his throat.

"Dad!"

Shmi's concentration broke as she looked away to see who had spoken. The man fell to the ground in a heap, revealing a little boy with curly black hair cowering behind him. When the boy saw her standing there, he rushed forward toward the discarded blaster. Surprised that a child would have the instinct to reach for a weapon, Shmi hesitated for a few moments before calling the weapon to her hand and concealing it under her robes.

"Is this your father?" Shmi asked the little boy, gesturing to the man who was only now struggling to his feet. The boy nodded, his eyes wide with terror as he backed away from her. "What is your name?" she asked.

"Don't talk to him!" the man yelled, stepping in front of his son protectively.

Shmi faltered once again, seeing much of herself in the man in front of her. The look of defiance yet unmistakable fear must have been reflected in her own eyes when she had faced down Maul on Tatooine all those years ago. They were in comparable positions, after all. Parents who would do anything to defend their respective children despite being completely out of league with their opponents.

"I apologize for barging into your home unannounced," Shmi said, relaxing her previously austere tone. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"What do you want?" the man asked.

"Your name," Shmi said again.

The man hesitated for a fraction of a second before finally answering her. "Jango," he said. "Jango Fett."

Shmi nodded. "And your son?" she asked.

"This is Boba," Jango said, his defensive stance wavering a bit as he detected her sincerity. "Boba, go wait in the other room," he said out of the corner of his mouth to his son.

"But Dad –"

"Boba. Now."

Little Boba glanced nervously at Shmi before acquiescing to his father's demand. He backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving Shmi's until he spun around and ran away.

"Show your face," Jango demanded once Boba was gone.

"Very well," Shmi said, feeling uncharacteristically generous toward this man now that she knew he was a father. With her free hand, she pushed the hood off her head. At once, Jango's eyebrows shot upward and his eyes widened in fear when he saw her face. Shmi was unable to contain her smirk at the sight. She had to say, she enjoyed being able to strike fear in people's hearts without having to do anything but look at them.

"Do you work for him?" Jango asked.

Shmi's eyes narrowed as she took a step closer toward the terrified man. "Who is 'him'?" she asked in a low voice.

Jango gulped audibly and took a step back. "Nobody," he said lamely.

Shmi's face twitched in irritation. Raising her hand, she applied the faintest of pressure against Jango's throat so as to remind him what she was capable of. "Tell me," she growled.

"The Sith!" Jango cried, his eyes shining with fear.

"Sidious?" Shmi asked.

"Who?" Jango said, clearly unfamiliar with the name.

"What Sith are you referring to?" Shmi asked.

"Lord Tyranus," Jango said.

Shmi frowned in confusion. She had never heard of this name. Was it possible that Tyranus was Sidious' apprentice? Or could he be a separate player entirely, like Plagueis?

"Tell me more about this Sith," Shmi ordered.

"I don't know much," Jango said, his hands raised defensively. "I swear. He gives me assignments, that's all."

"What sort of assignments?" Shmi asked lowly. When Jango didn't answer, Shmi held out her hand and froze the man where he stood. Prowling forward, Shmi began to pace around the petrified man. "You will tell me what I need to know, Fett," she said. "What sort of assignments do you do for this Lord Tyranus?"

"I'm a fixer," Jango confessed.

"A fixer?" Shmi repeated. "What type of things do you fix?"

"Opponents. Enemies. Adversaries. He hires me to take care of them."

Shmi ceased prowling, her eyes boring into the back of Jango's head as he remained utterly paralyzed. "Could some of these enemies include senators?" Shmi asked.

"Possibly," Jango said uneasily.

Shmi made a discontented humming sound as she walked around Jango so that she could look him directly in the eyes. "And what about Jedi?" she asked, their faces merely inches apart. Jango hesitated, clearly unwilling to answer her.

Just then, a ringing sound permeated the tense silence. Enraged, Shmi spun around and felt Jango tear out of her formerly ironclad grip. Stumbling backward, he didn't dare attempt to run away however. "There's someone at the door," he said.

Shmi turned to him, her eyes fiery. "I suggest you tell whoever is there to go away," she said.

Jango nodded his head vigorously and pushed past her to answer the door. Shmi turned to watch him, her eyes following his every step just in case he tried to escape. She knew that Jango was too smart to try that, however. He was clearly familiar with the extent of her powers. No doubt, this Sith whom he served had taught him about the power of the Force.

With a press of a button, the door slid open. Shmi took a step to the left so that she could see around Jango. Standing in the hallway was Obi-Wan and Taun We. "Yes?" Jango asked gruffly to the unexpected visitors.

"Welcome back, Jango," Taun We said. "Was your trip productive?"

Jango glanced back toward Shmi before answering. "Fairly," he said shortly. "I'm sorry to be rude, but I –"

"I apologize for the intrusion, but I wish to ask you a few questions," Obi-Wan interrupted.

"I really can't –"

"Let him in," Shmi instructed. Obi-Wan and Taun We both looked beyond Jango to see Shmi standing there. Taun We's dark eyes widened in shock when she saw her face for the first time. "Leave us," Shmi ordered to the Kaminoan. "Now," she added forcefully when Taun We hesitated. Blinking in surprise, Taun We nevertheless complied with her order and ambled away down the hallway.

Jango stepped aside to allow Obi-Wan to enter. As the door closed behind him, Obi-Wan gave her an inquisitive look. "I take it you found the man we've been looking for," he said to her.

"I have," Shmi said, resuming her attention to Jango. "Let's talk in your living room, shall we?"

Nodding, Jango walked past her stiffly and led them down the hallway toward an equally pristine, white-furnished room. Cowering against the armrest of a couch was Jango's son Boba. When they walked in, he jumped to his feet and ran over toward his father, grabbing onto his leg.

"Jango here told me some very interesting things," Shmi said to Obi-Wan as they came to a stop behind an armchair. Grasping the back of the chair with her hands, Shmi leaned forward a bit and glared at Jango, refusing to allow herself to be deterred by Boba this time around.

"What sort of things?" Obi-Wan asked.

"You work for a Sith Lord by the name of Darth Tyranus, is that correct?" Shmi asked. Jango nodded and clenched his jaw angrily, clearly furious at being treated in this way yet unable to do anything to stop it. "This Sith gives Jango assignments."

"Such as assassinating senators?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Indeed," Shmi affirmed. "And what about abducting Jedi?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jango said defiantly.

"Don't lie to me, Fett," Shmi spat, her fingernails digging viciously into the leather of the chair.

"I'm not lying to you," Jango insisted.

"Does the name Qui-Gon Jinn mean anything to you?" Obi-Wan asked.

"No," Jango said automatically, yet Shmi could tell at once that he was lying. Uncurling her fingers, she let go of the chair and stood up straight. She stared at Jango silently for a moment before abruptly swiping her hand to the left violently. The chair in front of her went flying into the wall, causing Jango to flinch and Boba to shut his eyes tight and clutch his father's leg even firmer.

"Lie to me again, Fett. I dare you," she said furiously.

Jango stared at the shattered remnants of the armchair and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay," he said. "All I was told is that he was important. Crucial, even."

"In what way?" Shmi asked.

"I don't know," Jango said. "Tyranus doesn't tell me anything, he just gives me orders."

"And what were your orders?"

"To bring the Jedi to him," Jango said.

Shmi narrowed her eyes and took two steps toward Jango. "Where did you take him?" she asked.

Jango shook his head. "I can't tell you," he said brazenly.

"Pardon?" Shmi said ominously.

"Please don't make me," Jango pleaded. "You don't understand how powerful this man is. If he finds out I told you how to find him…"

"What will he do?" Obi-Wan asked when Jango trailed off. "Will he kill you?"

"Oh no," Jango said, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "He wouldn't be so merciful." Shmi looked down to from Jango to Boba and suddenly understood what it was Jango was alluding to. Once again, she saw herself in the rugged bounty hunter. In spite of their respective course exteriors, they both only wanted one thing: to keep their sons safe. "Please," he begged again.

"We can protect you," Shmi said. "Both of you."

"No you can't," Jango said. "He controls everything."

"Including this clone army?" Obi-Wan asked.

"In time, yes," Jango confirmed.

"What does that mean?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously.

Shmi held up her hand to stop Obi-Wan. "I will find out where you took Qui-Gon," she said, shifting tactics. "You can either accept my offer for protection and tell me yourself, or I will have to find out the truth through less… pleasant methods." Jango's chin trembled in fear as a stray tear escaped and cascaded down his pocked cheek. "It's your choice."

Jango and Shmi stared at each other silently for a full minute. She knew how unfair it was for her to force this ultimatum on him given what was at stake for him, but she had to prioritize Qui-Gon's safety over that of a boy she had only just met. Finally, Jango opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. She could feel the conflict brewing within him, tearing him apart.

"Geonosis. He's on Geonosis."

Surprised, Shmi looked down to see that little Boba had let go of his father's leg and was glaring up at her with bold defiance.

"Boba!" Jango exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he said. "I couldn't let her hurt you."

"Geonosis?" Obi-Wan said. "That's in the Outer Rim, isn't it."

"I think so," Shmi said absently, her eyes still fixated on Boba. "Do not worry for your son, Fett," she said, looking up to meet Jango's panicky eyes. "This Tyranus will not be able to harm you once I am done with him. I can guarantee you that."


	14. Captured

_Naboo_

Anakin jolted upright in his bed, his bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Breathing heavily, he pushed the thin blanket off him and held his head in his hands. What was happening to him? He was burning with fury once again, and once again he couldn't explain why. Leaping out of bed, he rushed over toward the dresser and looked at his reflection through the mirror. His heart skipped a beat when he saw his eyes.

The right eye was the normal blue, but his left eye was a vibrant gold. Leaning forward, he pulled his eyelid back with his right hand to get a better look at his iris. As he did this, the yellow hue began to melt away slowly from the outside of the iris inward toward the pupil, revealing the typical blue color once more. Anakin stood there stunned for a few moments as he contemplated what had just happened. Releasing his eyelid and standing back up straight, he stared at his reflection with a mixture of fear and bewilderment for a few more moments.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. Rushing toward the door, he flung it open and went bolting down the hallway toward Padmé's room. Slipping a bit on the slick marble floor, he nearly collided into her door. Regaining his footing, he knocked tenaciously. "Padmé!" he called. "Open up!"

He heard an irritated grumbling sound from the other side of the door. "Go away, Anakin!" she yelled. "Do you know how early it is?"

"Open up!" he insisted again, knocking incessantly on the door.

Another heavy groan was followed by the sound of stomping footsteps. Abruptly, the door swung open revealing a deeply irritated Padmé. She was dressed in a silken nightgown and her hair was frizzy and unkempt. When she saw him, her grumpy eyes widened a bit as she glanced down.

"Look at my eye!" Anakin said manically, leaning down and pointing at his left eye.

"Um… what?" Padmé said, her eyes slowly drifting back up to see where he was pointing.

"Do you see?" he asked. "It's yellow!"

"Huh?" Padmé said.

"It's yellow!" Anakin repeated. "My eye! It's yellow!"

"You think you're jaundiced or something?" Padmé asked dryly.

"What? No!" Anakin said. "Don't you see? It happened again!"

"It?" Padmé said. "What is 'it'?"

"You said my eyes turned yellow the night before, right?" Anakin asked. "Well it happened again! That means it wasn't because of you! I'm not lying, see?" Padmé blinked a few times, clearly not following his logic. Once again her eyes deviated southward away from his face. "What are you looking at?" Anakin asked, snapping his fingers irritably.

"I, um… I'm sorry," she said, clearly frazzled. "Could you, erm… could you put a shirt on, maybe?"

Anakin flushed a deep crimson as he realized why Padmé seemed so uncomfortable. "Oh," he said, looking down at his naked torso. "Sorry," he mumbled. Backing away, he stumbled a bit before spinning around and practically running away in humiliation. Upon returning to his room, he slammed the door behind him and stood totally stationary for a few moments. Shaking his head, he forced himself to move past his embarrassment and get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later, Anakin was ready to give it another shot. Fully clothed this time, he ambled over to Padmé's room with an air of faux confidence. Knocking on her door – this time in a far more civilized manner – Anakin took a deep, soothing breath. "It's open!" he heard Padmé call.

Opening the door, Anakin stepped inside to see Padmé had changed as well, wearing a simple yet elegant white dress and matching shawl. She was seated on a cushioned stool in front of a mirror, brushing her voluminous hair. She turned to look at him, and the second they made eye contact, both blushed and looked away.

"I, uh… I'm sorry about earlier," Anakin mumbled.

"Not a problem," Padmé said in a high voice as she returned her attention to her reflection.

Anakin tapped his foot nervously on the ground as he looked around the room, desperate to look at anything but Padmé. "What were you trying to tell me?" she asked.

"Huh?" Anakin said dumbly.

Padmé spun around on the stool and quirked an eyebrow at him. "About your eye being yellow?"

"Oh," Anakin said, feeling like a colossal idiot. He had almost entirely forgot why he had come here in the first place. "Right. That."

Padmé gave him a strange look, clearly confused by his newfound reticence. "Well are you going to tell me or what?"

Anakin pinched his thigh hard as he desperately tried to find his voice. "I, uh… I woke up this morning, and…"

"And?"

"And my left eye was yellow," Anakin said, regaining his confidence as he recalled the bizarre incident. "And I had just had a dream when it happened."

"What sort of dream?" Padmé asked, her brow furrowed in bemusement.

"Like the sort I told you about with my mother," he said. "But this time it was different. It was more like what happened the night before."

"When you tried to strangle me?" Padmé asked pointedly.

"I didn't mean to do that!" Anakin exclaimed, waving his hands emphatically at his sides. "And this proves it!"

"I'm sorry, how does that prove anything?" Padmé asked skeptically.

"I'm not in control over my own actions!" Anakin said excitedly. "I'm feeling someone else's anger, and that's causing me to lash out."

"But you didn't do that this time," Padmé said.

"Only because I was asleep!" Anakin said. "Don't you see? My eyes turn yellow whenever this other person I'm connected to gets angry!"

Padmé seemed far from convinced as she resumed brushing her hair. "Any reason why only the left one changed color this time around?" she asked, sounding thoroughly disinterested.

Anakin's face dropped as he considered this question. "Er… I don't know," he said. "But does that really matter?"

"No, not really," Padmé said nonchalantly as she turned back toward the mirror.

"You don't think it's weird that my eye randomly changed color?" Anakin asked, annoyed by Padmé's apathy to his great revelation.

"I think it's weird, but I find it even more weird that you think that justifies what you did to me," she said brusquely.

Anakin's hands fell and slapped against his legs, utterly dejected by this abrupt dismissal. "Padmé, you're not listening to me!"

"No, Anakin, you're the one not listening," Padmé said, setting the brush down hard and standing up to face him. "You may think that you can distract me with compliments or stunts or by showing up at my room half naked, but you can't. Whatever you say isn't going to make me forget."

Despite her hostility and steadfast defiance, Anakin could detect her residual fear lingering within her. She was still afraid of him, and Anakin hated himself for that. Deciding that it was time to take drastic measures, Anakin took a step toward her and fell to his knees. Surprised, Padmé's eyebrows shot up as she looked down at him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said as sincerely as he could. "I would never do that. I beg you to see that." When Padmé's stony expression didn't soften, Anakin felt his lower lip tremble. "I'm so afraid," he said in a shaky voice. "I don't know what's happening to me. I'm scared of what I'm turning into, Padmé. I need help, but you won't believe me. Why won't you believe me? I'm telling you the truth! I feel like I'm losing my mind!"

"Ani –"

"Please, please believe me!" he implored. "I can't live with myself if you don't!"

"Ani, stop!"

"You have to listen to me. You have to –"

"Anakin, shut up!"

Stunned, Anakin fell silent. "You don't believe me, do you?" he asked.

"Listen!" she hissed.

"Listen?" he repeated, thoroughly bewildered.

"Do you hear that?" Straining his ears, Anakin suddenly heard what it was Padmé was talking about. It sounded like a dull, intermittent humming sound. "I think it's coming from your room," she said.

"So what?" Anakin said. "It's probably just my comlink."

"Don't you think you should answer it?" Padmé asked.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now," Anakin said.

"It could be important," Padmé countered.

"I think this is more important," Anakin said, growing frustrated by Padmé's diversionary tactic. It was clear she didn't want to have this conversation with him and would resort to any measure necessary to evade him.

"Fine, I'll go answer it," she said. With that she walked past him and stormed out the door. Blinking a few times in surprise, Anakin leapt to his feet and rushed after her.

"Padmé! What are you doing?" he called after her.

Padmé didn't respond. Yanking the door to his guest room open, she marched in. A few steps behind her, Anakin arrived in the doorway to see Padmé flinging his clothes around, trying to find the buzzing comlink.

"Do you mind?" Anakin asked irritably when she demonstrated no regard whatsoever for his clothes. Padmé ignored him once again as she picked up a poncho and threw it at him. "Thanks," he said sarcastically as he extricated himself from the poncho.

"Found it!" Padmé said, holding up the comlink triumphantly.

"Great work," Anakin mocked. "Can I please finish what I was trying to say?" For the third time, Padmé pretended as if she hadn't heard him. Clutching the comlink, she walked over toward his bed and suddenly paused. "What?" Anakin asked when she wrinkled her nose.

"You didn't make the bed," she said with a disapproving shake of her head.

"I kind of had other things on my mind!" Anakin said defensively. What was wrong with her?

Smoothing out the blanket with her left hand, Padmé set the comlink down on the edge of the bed and activated it. Emerging from the device was the miniaturized hologram of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Obi-Wan?" Padmé said as Anakin walked over by her side so that they could both be in Obi-Wan's field of view.

"_Senator, so good to see you_," Obi-Wan whispered, his voice barely audible. "_Do you mind if I talk to Anakin alone?_"

"What is this about, Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked with a frown. Once again, Obi-Wan was ruining things between him and Padmé. His timing truly was impeccable. "And speak up, we can barely hear you."

"_I'm afraid I can't do that,_" Obi-Wan said, his eyes darting about frantically as if he was afraid someone was watching him. "_I haven't much time._"

"What's going on? Did you find the bounty hunter?" Padmé asked.

"_Oh yes, we did find him," _Obi-Wan said.

"We?" Anakin asked. "Is Qui-Gon with you?"

"_No, he isn't," _Obi-Wan said.

"Then –"

"_Anakin, I need you to listen to me,_" Obi-Wan interrupted urgently. "_I need you to relay a message for me to the Jedi Council immediately._"

"Why? What's going on?" Anakin asked again.

"_I will tell you on the condition that you promise not to leave Naboo or do anything to put Senator Amidala in danger, do you understand?_"

"Obi-Wan –"

"_Do you understand?_"

Perplexed, Anakin glanced at Padmé before answering. "Fine," he said noncommittally.

"_You promise?_"

"Sure," Anakin said, rolling his eyes.

"_Say it!_"

"You can't be serious, Obi-Wan –"

"_Just say it, Anakin!_"

"Fine, I promise," Anakin said. "What's the message?"

Obi-Wan paused and glanced behind him. "_Qui-Gon has been kidnapped,_" he said when he turned back to look at them.

"What?!" Anakin exclaimed.

"_Shh!_" Obi-Wan said, holding a finger up to his mouth. "_The same bounty hunter who tried to assassinate Senator Amidala was responsible for abducting him. We tracked him to a planet called Kamino. We were greeted by –"_

"Hold up," Anakin interrupted, holding up his hand to stop Obi-Wan. "Why would anyone want to abduct my dad?" Obi-Wan's hologram froze, his eyes shifting toward Padmé. "She knows," Anakin said.

"_You told her?!_" Obi-Wan asked, aghast.

"Yes," Anakin said simply.

Obi-Wan gaped at him silently for a moment before shaking his head. "_I don't have time for this, but do know that I cannot believe you did that, Anakin_," he said.

"Believe me, I know," Anakin said snidely.

"_Anyway, we don't know why Qui-Gon was kidnapped. All the bounty hunter told us was that he works for a Sith by the name of Darth Tyranus._"

"Tyranus? Who is that?" Anakin asked.

"_I don't know. All we know is that Tyranus wants Qui-Gon for something._"

"But –"

"_Anakin, please don't interrupt me because I am severely short for time. I need you to tell the Jedi Council that the Kaminoans have been constructing a clone army for the Republic on the order of Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas nearly ten years ago. Then have them send a contingent to Geonosis to help rescue Qui-Gon. We are en-route now, but we will need assistance if we are going to defeat this mysterious Sith."_

Anakin blinked a few times as he absorbed this heap of information. "The Republic has no need of an army," Padmé said, sounding as confused as Anakin felt.

"_Believe me, none of it makes any sense to me either," _Obi-Wan said."_You must relay this message to the Council, Anakin. Your father's life may depend on it._"

Feeling slightly panicky now, Anakin nodded vigorously and started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His father's life was in danger and Obi-Wan wanted him to stay put? There was no way that was happening!

"Who are you with right now and why do you have to be keeping this correspondence from them?" Padmé asked.

Obi-Wan glanced behind him once again. "_I'm… I'm afraid I can't tell you that,_" he said, clearly struggling with something. "_Anakin, you must stay where you are. Do not defy my orders. Stay with the Senator on Naboo._"

"I promise, Master," Anakin lied.

"_Good. I have to go. Make sure the Council receives my message._" With that, Obi-Wan's hologram flickered out and the device turned off. The moment he was gone, Anakin turned around and ran his hands through his hair.

"Anakin –" Padmé began to say.

"I have to go," he said. "I'm sorry to leave you like this, but you have to understand that I have no choice."

"Anakin, stop!" Padmé said, grabbing onto his elbow.

"You can't convince me otherwise," he said upon turning to face her directly.

"I don't mean to," she said. "I want to go with you."

"Go with me?" Anakin repeated incredulously. "But Padmé –"

"You can't convince me otherwise," she said with a smirk. "I'm going and that's final."

Anakin stared back at her silently for a moment before nodding. "Alright then," he said, folding instantly. "I'll contact the Council and then we'll go."

* * *

_Geonosis_

"Are you okay?" Shmi asked Obi-Wan. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan said quickly. Shmi frowned as she considered her companion's face for a moment longer. He was clearly on edge. Perhaps he was simply nervous. She could understand if that was the case. She too was feeling a sense of trepidation. None of this added up. Who was this Darth Tyranus and what did he want with Qui-Gon? Was this all some elaborate ploy to get to her somehow? Or could it be a trap set by Sidious to lure Anakin away from the Jedi? It sure was a good thing Anakin didn't know anything about this if that were true.

Upon departing Kamino, Shmi and Obi-Wan had flown off toward Geonosis using the coordinates Jango had reluctantly given them. Now they were camped out behind a dusty rock overlooking a craggy canyon below, their ship parked a few hundred meters away on a plateau. Adjusting her binoculars, Shmi took a look at the facility they had found.

"I can sense him," Shmi said, still looking through the binoculars. "Qui-Gon is here."

"That's good," Obi-Wan said faintly. Finally, Shmi set the binoculars aside and stood up. "Where are you going?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I need a closer look," she said. "Stay here."

"What? No! You just want me to do nothing?"

Shmi considered him for a moment before saying "Yes," with a slight nod of her head. "You will be nothing more than a hindrance to me."

"That's bull!" Obi-Wan exclaimed agitatedly as he jumped to his feet. "I'm going with you!"

Caught off guard by the vehemence in Obi-Wan's tone, Shmi raised her eyebrows. "Is that so?" she asked dryly.

"Qui-Gon is my master," Obi-Wan argued. "He means as much to me as he does to you. Maybe more, in fact."

"More?" Shmi asked lowly.

"Yeah, that's right," Obi-Wan said, pointing a finger at her. "You're the one who abandoned him without explanation twice. At least I've been by his side for all this time."

"How dare you!" Shmi said indignantly.

"You never cared about him, did you?" Obi-Wan accused. "I doubt you care about anyone. Why else would you run away from everyone who ever made the mistake of loving you?"

Shmi was too stunned to speak. Red hot fury coursed through her veins as she seethed silently. Who was Obi-Wan to make such bombastic and inflammatory accusations? He was a Jedi! He didn't know the first thing about love or commitment.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Obi-Wan challenged.

Unable to stop herself, Shmi shrieked in fury and sent Obi-Wan flying away with the Force. Obi-Wan sailed in the air for a few meters before colliding with a thud against a red rock. At once, Shmi regained control over herself and reigned in the darkness which was swirling around her tempestuously. She hadn't lost control like that in a long time. Perhaps it was the truth of Obi-Wan's words which had enraged her so much…

Shmi was about to run to Obi-Wan's assistance when she froze. Someone – or something more like given the lack of distinct Force signatures – was approaching, and fast. Donning her hood, Shmi rushed back toward the rock where they had previously been hiding. Crouching so that nobody could see her, Shmi tilted her neck to the side to see who was coming.

Half a dozen shielded droidekas were rolling up the sandy path toward Obi-Wan, followed closely by a contingent of lesser battle droids. Upon seeing Obi-Wan, the battle droids scurried forward and formed a ring around him. Shmi watched in horror as they applied binders to his hands and began dragging him away back down the trail. She contemplated revealing herself so as to free Obi-Wan, but she knew she couldn't take the chance. If those droids so much as got a look at her, the entire planet would be alerted to her presence.

Besides, this worked out in her favor anyway. She hadn't wanted Obi-Wan to accompany her and now he was out of the picture. Of course, she was obliged to rescue him as well now, but she'd approach that dilemma sometime later. For now, she would continue to wait and observe. She knew Qui-Gon was somewhere down in that facility. She just needed to figure out how to get in without being detected.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke up feeling horribly groggy. With a moan, he tried to rub the back of his head which was throbbing painfully, yet found that he was unable to move his arm. Eyes opening fully, he looked down to find himself suspended in midair, his limbs shackled with energy binders.

"Welcome to Geonosis, Master Kenobi."

Looking up sharply, Obi-Wan saw a white-haired man looking up at him from across the room. He looked familiar although Obi-Wan had never met him before.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"Dooku," Obi-Wan spat.

"Indeed," Dooku said with a half-grin as he walked forward and began circling Obi-Wan.

"You're Tyranus, aren't you?" Obi-Wan asked.

"How do you know that name?" Dooku asked from behind him.

"I have my sources," Obi-Wan said vaguely.

"Fine, be coy with me Kenobi," Dooku said in a light-hearted voice as he walked back around to his front. "Although I must say, I am quite impressed that you managed to find me so quickly. You must have had help, did you not?"

"No," Obi-Wan said at once.

Dooku's eyes narrowed as he took a step closer, his head craned so he could look into Obi-Wan's face. "I find that hard to believe," he said. "Why is it that my patrol found you unconscious above the canyon?"

"I was sleeping," Obi-Wan said, cringing at how horrible that lie sounded.

Dooku laughed at this and turned around. "Why of course," he said. "The great Master Kenobi was merely taking a nap. Seems plausible enough." Obi-Wan said nothing as he glared at the back of Dooku's head. "I can't make you tell me. Your master wouldn't let me so much as lay a finger on you. But I do beseech you to be cooperative."

"Qui-Gon is here, isn't he?" Obi-Wan asked, perking up at the mention of his master.

"Yes, of course," Dooku said, turning around. "He is quite comfortable here, as I'll have you know."

"In the same sense that I'm comfortable?" Obi-Wan asked.

Dooku chortled once again. "You are a funny one, Kenobi," he said. "Qui-Gon doesn't give you enough credit for that. I was always under the impression you were a bit of a bore."

"Where is he?" Obi-Wan asked, disregarding the backhanded compliment.

"Around," Dooku said with a shrug. "It's hardly relevant to you right now, however," he added, the levity disappearing from his voice. "Tell me who accompanied you here and why did he attack you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Obi-Wan said defiantly. "I want to talk to Qui-Gon."

"Oh, you will be able to, but only if you tell me what I need to know," Dooku said.

"I'm not going to tell you anything, Tyranus," Obi-Wan said.

Dooku frowned and interlaced his fingers in front of him. "There are a great many things you do not understand, Master Kenobi," he said. "The galaxy is on the brink of catastrophe and the Jedi know it. If you truly want to defeat Sidious, you will join forces with me."

"You serve Sidious!" Obi-Wan said loudly. "You don't want to defeat him!"

Dooku smirked subtly before resuming his pacing. "Sometimes we must get close to our enemies in order to defeat them," he said. Bemused by this unexpected maxim, Obi-Wan was silent as he watched Dooku walk slowly in front of him. "Qui-Gon understands this as well. That is why he has joined me."

"Liar!" Obi-Wan spat. "He would never join you!"

"He understands the magnitude of the threat we are faced with," Dooku said. "He also understands that the Jedi are not capable of countering this menace on their own. I hope you will see the wisdom of your master's decision much like Qui-Gon saw in his own master." Obi-Wan looked away from Dooku once he had passed out of his peripheral vision. Was it possible that Dooku was telling the truth? Would Qui-Gon really have joined forces with him? But Shmi had said that she had seen visions of him dying. Dooku must be lying. There was no other explanation.

"I don't believe you," Obi-Wan said.

"Understandable," Dooku said nonchalantly.

"Are you going to kill me?" Obi-Wan asked, attempting to sound impassive.

"I hope not," Dooku said, still speaking from behind him. "But if you refuse to tell me who accompanied you here, I will have little choice but to eliminate you."

Obi-Wan shook his head at once. He wasn't going to betray Shmi to Dooku. Besides, he knew the Jedi would be arriving soon to rescue him. He had no reason to cooperate with Dooku. "I will never help you, Dooku," he said viciously.

Dooku sighed heavily as he reappeared in Obi-Wan's field of view. "So be it," he said. All of a sudden, a blaring alarm sounded, so loud that Dooku was forced to cover his ears with his hands. Given that Obi-Wan had no control over his limbs, he was unable to do this, so he winced as the cacophonous sound barraged his exposed ear drums.

"Who is here? Who did you come with?" Dooku shouted over the noise, stepping toward him and grabbing him by the front of his robes. "How did they get in?"

Obi-Wan merely smirked in defiance. "This is the end for you, Dooku," Obi-Wan said confidently. Surely Shmi had come to rescue him! When she arrived, she would kill Dooku and liberate both him and Qui-Gon.

"Is that so?" Dooku asked lowly, his voice practically inaudible over the deafening alarm system. Dooku released him and spun around when a battle droid identical to the ones he had seen on Naboo ten years prior entered the room.

"Sir, we have captured two intruders," the droid informed Dooku flatly.

Obi-Wan's face fell at these words. Two intruders? Who could that be? It wasn't Shmi, that's for sure.

"Who are they?" Dooku asked the droid with a glance toward Obi-Wan to gauge his reaction.

"We are not sure, sir, but one of them seems to be a Jedi," the droid said.

"A Jedi?" Dooku repeated.

"Yes, sir. Our analysis suggests that he is a Jedi Padawan given his braid and fighting style."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened in disbelief. This couldn't be happening…

"And the other?" Dooku asked, his eyes glinting with triumph as he looked at Obi-Wan's crestfallen expression.

"A woman," the droid said. "She was unarmed."

Obi-Wan couldn't believe his ears. Anakin, you fool! Not only had he defied his direct order, but he had brought Padmé along with him! He could only pray that Anakin had relayed his message to the Council and hope that some more competent backup would be arriving soon.

"Well done, Commander," Dooku praised. "Bring me to them."

"Roger, roger," the droid said as he turned to escort Dooku.

"I'm afraid the cavalry isn't arriving, my friend," Dooku said to Obi-Wan. "A pity." With that, the Sith Lord followed after the battle droid and left Obi-Wan alone in his cell.

* * *

Anakin struggled fruitlessly against the energy binders the droids had applied to his wrists. Regular metal binders would have been easy for him to escape from, but the energy binders were a different entity entirely. They were designed exclusively to restrain Force-sensitives such as himself. Even if he could get out of the binders, he had Padmé to think about as well. It wouldn't be particularly gallant of him to run away while she was still imprisoned.

Upon hastily departing Naboo, Anakin and Padmé had arrived on the sandy planet of Geonosis within a standard day. He had been immensely confident when they had arrived. He knew at once that his father was here; he could sense him. He figured it would be easy to rescue him. All he had to do was infiltrate the facility and follow his father's Force signature. As long as Padmé stayed close to him, they wouldn't have a problem.

Of course, things hadn't gone as smoothly as he had anticipated. He and Padmé had been separated and their presence had been detected within moments of their arrival at the facility. He refused to admit that the whole plan was a mistake, however. While he had relayed Obi-Wan's message to the Jedi Council, he knew they were too far away on Coruscant to be able to arrive on time. At least Anakin was here, even if he had made a bungle of the rescue mission.

"Are you okay?" Anakin asked in a whisper to Padmé. They were being escorted by a company of battle droids down a dark hallway deep into the interior of the facility. Neither of them had said a word to each other up to this point, and Anakin could only hope that she wasn't angry at him for being captured.

"Fine," she said out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes still decidedly fixed on the horizon. "Just let me do the talking, alright? I'm a member of the Senate. Whoever this Tyranus person is, he won't be bold enough to kill me."

Anakin nodded, but internally he was far from placated by Padmé's reassurance. He was fairly sure that Tyranus would have no qualms with disposing of them. He was a Sith, after all.

Reaching the end of the hallway, the droids came to a stop and pushed him and Padmé rudely into a spacious, circular room. Craning his head upward, Anakin could see no ceiling, as the jagged rock ceiling rose upward into the darkness. Reorienting himself to his immediate surroundings, Anakin saw that at the center of the room was a broad oval-shaped table. At the head of the table several meters away sat an old, white-haired man.

"Count Dooku," Padmé said coldly when she laid eyes on him. "I should have known."

"Senator Amidala, what a pleasant surprise," Dooku said.

"You're Tyranus!" Anakin exclaimed, unable to contain himself. During his time in the Order, the Jedi had long suspected that Dooku – who was known across the galaxy as the leader of the Separatists – was in fact also the Sith Lord Darth Sidious. While his father had vehemently denied this accusation, it seemed the Jedi were at least partially correct.

"Indeed I am," Dooku said casually. "And you are Anakin Skywalker. Or perhaps I should call you by a more apt name? Anakin Jinn, perhaps?" Stunned, Anakin's mouth fell open. Dooku chuckled at Anakin's reaction and made a gesture with his hand. "Please, take a seat," he said to them. "I'm sure we have much to discuss."

"Come on, Anakin," Padmé whispered when Anakin didn't budge.

"How do you know that?" Anakin asked, remaining on his feet even when Padmé sat down.

"As you surely must know, your father and I are old friends," Dooku said. "There is not much I don't know about him."

"You're lying," Anakin said at once. "My father hasn't spoken to you in a decade."

Dooku nodded dolefully. "Indeed, this is true," he admitted. "Much too long for my liking."

"But –"

"Take a seat, young Jinn," Dooku interrupting, his eyes glinting when Anakin flinched at this name. When Anakin continued to remain standing, Dooku sighed and flicked his wrist. Anakin felt his whole body freeze and suddenly get lifted into the air a few inches. In spite of his protestations, Anakin was unable to stop himself from getting pulled forward toward the chair in front of him. With a downward thrust of his hand, Anakin plummeted downward, causing his knees to buckle when he hit the ground. With one last flick of his wrist, Dooku pushed Anakin over so that he fell into the chair.

"That's better," he said cheerfully. "Now, where were we?"

"Where are you keeping Qui-Gon?" Padmé asked.

"Nearby," Dooku said vaguely.

"What do you want with him?" Anakin asked, unable to keep the vitriol out of his voice as Padmé had somehow managed to do.

"I need your father's assistance in a play I am conducting," Dooku said, once again with infuriating opacity.

"A play?" Anakin repeated. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you will see," Dooku said with a suave smile. "In fact, you will be invited to attend. You will have front row seats to our performance."

Anakin snarled at Dooku, enraged by his flippant demeanor and casual dismissal of their questions. "You won't get away with this, Dooku," he said furiously. "You're going to pay."

Dooku's smug expression faded ever so slightly as he considered Anakin's face. "Indeed, I most likely will," he said plaintively. "And in time, I suspect you will come to thank me for it." Thoroughly bewildered by this unexpected prediction, Anakin was rendered speechless. "In the meantime, I must be going," he said, standing up abruptly. "I have a lot of preparation to do for my play, you see."

"What are you going to do to us?" Padmé asked, fear creeping into her typically impassive tone as Dooku turned around to leave.

Dooku raised an eyebrow as he craned his neck back to look at them one last time. "I intend to kill you, of course," he said blithely. With that ominous statement, Dooku strode out of the room, his loud footsteps echoing cacophonously about the cave-like chamber.

* * *

The second the door to the chamber opened, Qui-Gon leapt to his feet agitatedly. "I want to see him," he said as Dooku walked in. "Now."

Dooku made a tutting sound with his tongue as the door slid closed behind him. "There will be plenty of time for that later," he said with a dismissive wave of his veiny hand.

"I know my son is here, Dooku," Qui-Gon said, pointing a finger at him accusatively. "I want to see him."

"You have made that abundantly clear, my friend," Dooku said, irritation seeping into his voice. "I must remind you that this is impossible. At least for now."

"It's not impossible," Qui-Gon said stubbornly. "Bring me to him."

"No," Dooku said definitively. "Do you want to jeopardize this whole affair?"

"He needs to know!" Qui-Gon insisted.

"And in time he will," Dooku said. "But he can't know now. We've been over this already, Qui-Gon. It is too risky."

Qui-Gon growled angrily yet offered no rebuttal. He knew Dooku was right, but he couldn't bear the thought of not telling Anakin what was about to happen. But hopefully Dooku was right. Perhaps the only way for this to work was for Anakin to suffer for a brief while…

"Have you been practicing?" Dooku asked.

"Of course I have," Qui-Gon said tartly. "What do you think I've been doing all this time in this room?"

"Forgive me for asking," Dooku said, raising his hands in surrender. "I do remember you having a proclivity towards procrastination while you were my Padawan."

"Yeah, well a lot has changed since then, hasn't it?"

"Indeed, it has," Dooku said with a sigh. For a moment, Dooku's eyes seemed to glaze over as he pondered something. Qui-Gon always hated it when he did that.

"How is Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked, breaking the silence.

"Pugnacious, like his father," Dooku said with an amused snort. "He is extraordinarily like you in more ways than one, I must say."

"How so?" Qui-Gon asked, curious how Dooku could glean so much from his son in one brief encounter.

"He has the same look in his eyes," Dooku said with a faint grin.

"How do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, intrigued by this unexpected assessment.

"Surely you must have seen it," Dooku said.

"Seen what?"

"Why, my dear old friend, he has the same sparkle in his eyes that you had when you first fell in love with Shmi," Dooku said with a saccharine sigh. "Oh, to be young," he lamented. Qui-Gon blinked a few times in bewilderment. What was Dooku talking about? "Perhaps I am not being clear," Dooku said when he detected his confusion. "Senator Amidala is with him."

Qui-Gon's eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets. "What?" he exclaimed loudly, his voice ricocheting off the tall walls of the meditation chamber. "What is she doing here?"

"I assume she decided to accompany him to rescue you, or whatever silly idea they had in store," Dooku said. "You did say that they were together on Naboo, did you not?"

Qui-Gon nodded faintly, stunned by how irresponsible Anakin had been. It was one thing for him to try and rescue him all by himself, but it was another for him to bring the Senator along with him. What had he been thinking? How could he have been so foolish?

But Qui-Gon already knew the answer, although he didn't want to admit it. Dooku had said as much. Anakin was in love with Amidala, or at least thought that he did. The realization was no less painful even if it had been thoroughly predictable. He had made it a goal of the latter half of his life to prevent his two sons – Anakin and Obi-Wan – from committing the same mistakes he had made. Falling in love with Shmi had undoubtedly been a mistake, or so he had decided retrospectively. Of course, it had led to wonderful things, Anakin being chief among them. That being said, the hardship and depression Shmi had inflicted upon him was something he never wanted Anakin or Obi-Wan to have to experience. It seemed, however, that he had failed to prevent Anakin's childhood crush on Amidala from blossoming into something more tangible.

"She won't die tomorrow, don't worry," Dooku said, rousing Qui-Gon from his thoughts. "The droids will be programmed not to target her or Anakin."

Qui-Gon squirmed a bit, still feeling uncomfortable about this aspect of their plan. He knew many Jedi were going to die, most of whom he was well acquainted with.

Perhaps sensing his ambivalence, Dooku cleared his throat. "Keep in good spirits, my friend," he said with a strained grin. "Soon everything you have ever dreamed of will come to be. This is merely the storm before the calm, if you will." Dooku chuckled, evidently amused by his own joke. "Anyway, I will let you return to your training," he said. With that, Dooku turned to leave, leaving a deeply conflicted Qui-Gon in his wake.


	15. The Play

_Geonosis_

The next morning, Anakin was rudely awakened from his cell by a Neimoidian guard wielding a crackling energy staff. Jabbing the end of the staff into Anakin's ribcage, Anakin yelled out in surprise more so than in pain.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled, pressing his back against the wall of the cell to assist him as he got to his feet. The Neimoidian snarled at him and jabbed him once again for good measure. Refusing to be deterred by the guard, Anakin adopted a stoic expression and allowed himself to be escorted out of the cell. Upon entering the hallway, Anakin saw that Padmé had been woken as well and had emerged from her cell in identical fashion to him, with an armed guard at her flank. The guards herded them together so that they could walk together. In unison, the guards prodded them in the back with the energy staff, causing Padmé to yelp and Anakin to grit his teeth in anger.

"Don't worry," Anakin muttered to Padmé as they began walking out of the dungeon. "Help is on the way."

Padmé nodded nervously, clearly unconvinced by Anakin's optimistic reassurance. If he was being honest, he didn't believe himself either. Had there even been enough time for the Jedi to make it to the Outer Rim from Coruscant? And even if they did, would they be able to save them? This place was a fortress, armed to the teeth with battle droids and conventional defenses alike.

Emerging from the dungeon, the Neimoidian guards directed them up a set of winding stairs which led them back up to the surface. Padmé and Anakin made the ascent in somber silence, each of them becoming increasingly resigned to their fate with each step. A few minutes later, they arrived at a gloomy, dirt-floored hallway. Awaiting them was a cart led by a rather gruesome-looking quadrupedal creature which reminded Anakin a bit of the eopies back on Tatooine. Wordlessly, Anakin and Padmé boarded the cart, but not without one final jab from their respective guards.

"Anakin?"

Anakin turned to look at Padmé once the guards had left, leaving them alone on the cart. "What is it?" he asked, his mouth feeling dry and coarse.

"I… I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" Anakin asked, bemused.

"Look, I know this doesn't end well for us so I want to get everything off my chest while I still can," she said, stumbling over her words in a fashion highly atypical of her normally-articulate speech. Anakin said nothing, waiting for Padmé to reveal whatever it was she had on her mind. "I know you weren't lying to me," she said, speaking slower and more deliberately now. "But you can understand why I was so afraid, can't you?"

"Of course I can," Anakin said quickly.

"But it wasn't just because of what you did," she said, causing Anakin to frown in confusion. "I was afraid of you for another reason."

"I don't understand," Anakin said.

"I'm afraid of what I feel when I'm around you," she confessed, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't know what it is, whether it's love or not, but I knew it was wrong." Anakin caught his breath, scarcely believing what he was hearing. Was she telling him that she loved him? Or something equivalent, at least? "But none of that matters anymore," she said resolutely, this time looking up so that their eyes met for the first time. "If we're going to die now, I don't want my last moments to be dictated by rules other people placed on us. I guess… I guess what I'm trying to say… what I want to say is that –"

Anakin cut off her bumbling, incoherent ramblings by leaning down abruptly and kissing her square on the mouth. While Padmé was clearly surprised by this, she soon allowed herself to relax and melt into the kiss. It was sloppy and more than a little awkward, but they gave it their best shot given that neither of them knew what they were doing.

As they separated, Padmé gave him a radiant, albeit slightly nervous smile which he reciprocated with alacrity. Anakin knew at once that he had never felt more satisfied in his life. He wasn't happy, per se, given the fact that he was about to die, but he felt at ease now. He felt that he had at least accomplished this before he died. Now he and Padmé could truly be together, even if it was at the very end.

The couple had no more words for each other as the cart suddenly lurched forward a bit and began to move, creaking and rumbling slowly as it carried them toward their execution. As Anakin finally looked away from Padmé and stared off determinedly at the horizon, he felt her soft hand wrap itself around his. Squeezing her hand reassuringly, Anakin had to hold up his left hand to his face when they emerged at the end of the tunnel and into the open air.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, Anakin gasped as he took in their surroundings. They were being carted into the center of a circular sand pit. A few meters away from them stood four stone pillars. Chained to the far right pillar was Obi-Wan, who looked a little worse for wear not unlike themselves. Surrounding the pit was a massive arena, extending up several hundred feet with dozens and dozens of rows filled by a boisterous Geonosian crowd . With a flash of unanticipated recollection, Anakin noted that the place was remarkably similar to the Grand Arena in Mos Espa where he had won the Boonta's Eve Classic ten years ago, albeit on a much larger scale.

"So good of you to show up," Obi-Wan said once they were within ear shot. His voice was dripping with passive aggressive sarcasm, Obi-Wan's preferred mode of verbal combat.

Anakin made no reply to this comment, electing instead to release Padmé's hand as subtly as he could lest Obi-Wan noticed. Once the cart stopped, he and Padmé were beckoned forward by a trio of Geonosians. Following without objection, Anakin and Padmé were led off to separate pillars. Turning him around so that his back was facing the pillar, the Geonosian attached a long chain to his binders and abruptly flew upward, pulling his arms up with him. To his left, he saw Padmé undergoing a similar process on the other pillar.

"Did you at least retransmit my message?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding as if he didn't expect an affirmative.

"Of course I did," Anakin insisted a bit indignantly. "Then we decided to come and rescue you."

Obi-Wan glanced up at his chains briefly before looking back at Anakin. "Good job," he said snidely.

Anakin looked away when he heard the already-raucous crowd erupted into cheers. Emerging onto a platform several dozen feet in the air was a highly-esteemed-looking Geonosian who Anakin assumed was the leader of the planet. The Geonosian said a few words in an unfamiliar tongue, causing the crowd to grow louder still.

"What did he say?" Anakin asked in a whisper to Padmé.

Padmé looked especially pale as she turned to look at him. "Probably to begin the executions," she said faintly.

"Oh," Anakin said, feeling somewhat foolish. In context, that made a lot of sense to him. The sound of a gong caused Anakin to spin his head around to see that the massive iron gate in front of him had begun to lift up. After a few agonizing seconds, the gate opened fully to reveal a massive, leathery skinned monster. Anakin's eyes widened as the behemoth took a few steps out its cage and into the open arena. On either side of the creature's brutish skull were ivory tusks which Anakin reckoned were six feet long, while another tusk protruded upward directly above its nostrils. Anakin heard Padmé gulp in fear as the creature took two more heavy steps toward them, the force behind each step causing the ground to shake and rumble.

The creature continued to approach until all of a sudden it stopped. Anakin was confused for a moment before he felt a horrible cold wash over his body. The sensation was unlike any he had ever experienced. In spite of the searing heat and blazing sun, the hair on Anakin's arms shot up as goosebumps dotted his skin. Icy cold sweat began pouring down his forehead and into his eyes, causing them to sting and burn. As he struggled to wipe his eyes with his shoulder, Anakin nearly missed seeing the titanic creature rear up on its hind legs and spin around with terrifying speed for an animal as large as this.

"What's happening?" Anakin asked as the beast stomped its colossal feet against the ground and turned around fully to face something else.

"I believe we are being rescued," Obi-Wan said with remarkable calm.

Just then, Anakin saw a simultaneous flash of red and blue pierce the air. Anakin's windpipe constricted as the darkness he felt billowing around him intensified with unparalleled fury. He had only experienced this true power once before when he had nearly strangled Padmé. Yet this sensation was something different; it was far more tangible and far more terrifying than it had been then.

The beast roared as it was lifted off its legs and into the air. Red and blue flashed about in a seemingly uncoordinated and chaotic fashion. Anakin squinted as he tried to make out what was happening, but everything was happening so fast. Before he knew it, the creature had fallen back to the ground on its flank, dead. Sand billowed upward into the air when the creature made impact. Amidst the sandy storm, Anakin was able to discern a hooded figure wielding one blue and one red lightsaber. The faceless figure seemed to stare directly at him for a moment before turning to dispose of the guards who were running toward him with electric staffs. Terrified, the crowd began to evacuate by taking to the air, the sound of thousands of sets of wings drowning out the whirring sound of the lightsabers and the crackling of the electric staffs.

The hooded figure slashed through the air with deadly precision as he decapitated, disemboweled, or otherwise eviscerated the dozen Geonosian guards. Upon defeating the last pitiful opponent, the hooded figure deactivated his blades and began marching toward them purposefully. Anakin feared this mysterious man far more than he did the creature which only seconds ago had been prepared to kill them. The power emanating from this individual was unlike anything Anakin had even conceived as being possible. It was as if they were a physical manifestation of death itself.

Anakin was unable to stop himself from trembling in fear as the hooded figure approached. To his left, he could sense Padmé's fear as well, yet oddly enough he detected no such similar feelings from Obi-Wan. It was almost as if he had expected this to happen.

The figure came to a stop a few feet directly in front of him. With a slash of his hand, the three sets of chains restraining Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padmé fell to the ground. Curling his wrists as he felt circulation return to his hands, Anakin pressed his back firmly against the pillar to get as far away as he could from his unidentified savior. Oblivious to his terror – or perhaps apathetic to it – the figure resumed walking toward him until he was only a few feet away.

In one swift motion, the figure stopped walking and unveiled itself. Anakin's mouth fell open in disbelief and horror when the hood fell away, revealing the most terrifying visage he had ever seen in his life.

Her face was gaunt and waxy while her skin was a deathly pale. The disturbing angularity of her face was emphasized by sharp, protruding cheekbones. Her pallid face was framed by long-flowing silver hair which was practically glowing white in the sunlight. His attention was instantly drawn to her eyes, however. They were shining with unnatural luminosity as they bored into his own. Her right eye was so dark that it was practically black, making it difficult to distinguish between the iris and the pupil. Her left eye was even more terrifying than the right, however, as it was ablaze with an intense gold which coruscated and glimmered as if it there truly was a fire burning behind her cornea.

"Mom?" Anakin said hoarsely, phrasing the word as a question rather than a greeting.

Shmi Skywalker smiled broadly, causing her thin face to stretch creepily. "Hello, my son," she said.

* * *

"What's going on? Who's here?" Qui-Gon asked frantically. "Is it him? Is it Sidious?"

"Settle down, my friend," Dooku assured him as the door to the chamber closed behind him. "It couldn't possibly be him."

"Then who caused that…" Qui-Gon trailed off, unsure of which noun to use. Disturbance wasn't the right word for what he had sensed. It had been more like an eruption, a cataclysmic explosion in the Force. Who could possibly wield such an awesome power?

"I don't know," Dooku admitted, wiping his brow nervously with the back of his hand. "But whatever it is, it will not alter our plans. We must stay with the script."

"Is Anakin alright?" Qui-Gon asked in a high voice.

"He should be fine," Dooku said unconvincingly. "But we will find out soon enough. Are you ready?" Qui-Gon swallowed hard and tapped his fingers against his thigh frantically as he always did when he was anxious. "Do not worry, my friend," Dooku reassured, reaching out and placing his hand atop Qui-Gon's fidgeting one. "Everything will go smoothly if we work together on this."

Qui-Gon nodded and took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm ready," he said. "Let's do this."

* * *

Anakin flinched when his terrifying mother took a step toward him. Evidently undeterred by his ambivalence, Shmi wrapped her arms around him and dragged him away from the pillar as she hugged him, enfolding him in a tender yet firm embrace. Too stunned to reciprocate the gesture, Anakin's arms fell to his sides as he accepted the hug limply.

"Oh, Ani," Shmi said in a sweet voice which did not correspond with her frightening appearance. "You've grown so much!" Anakin nodded dumbly when Shmi released him. Grabbing onto his forearms, her intense eyes scanned over his body as she scrutinized him with an ebullient grin.

"What took you so long?" Obi-Wan asked. Shmi's smile disappeared instantaneously as she turned to look at Obi-Wan sharply. Withering under her glare, Obi-Wan looked down at his feet and muttered an apology.

With a shake of her head, Shmi returned her attention to Anakin. "Oh, you're so handsome!" she said, practically squealing with delight. "And you're tall, just like your father!" His mother's effervescence faded a bit when she looked back up to his face and saw his expression. "Don't tell me you're afraid of me, too," she said with a frown. Anakin blinked a few times, still too shocked to form a cohesive thought. "Is it the eyes?" she asked. "I guess that's fair," she said when Anakin nodded dazedly. "They take a bit to get used to."

"I'm sorry, are you… Anakin's mother?"

Once again, Shmi's expression turned stony when she looked away from her son toward Padmé. Upon meeting her eyes directly for the first time, Padmé's face grew pale with fright.

"Pleasure to meet you again, Padmé," Shmi said coldly. "I take it you and Anakin have become _friends_?" she asked, adding particular emphasis on that last word.

"Um… yes," Padmé said in a small voice, clearly wanting to escape Shmi's vulture-like glare. Deciding he had to intercede on Padmé's behalf, Anakin forced himself to speak.

"How… how did you get here?" he managed to ask hoarsely.

"That's a long story for another time," Shmi said, her smile returning as she looked back at him. "In the meantime, I need to get you out of here and find your father. Do you have any idea where he is?"

Anakin opened his mouth to speak when he suddenly stopped. He sensed something. Shmi's own eyes widened as well as she turned away from him. "Stand behind me," she said in a whisper as she drew her lightsabers. "All of you."

"I don't think so," Obi-Wan said brazenly.

Shmi looked behind her toward him. "What did you do, Kenobi?" she asked. Obi-Wan smirked and shook his head. His smug expression faltered, however, when Shmi activated her blades and took two steps toward him. "You defied me?" she asked lowly.

"I did what I had to do," Obi-Wan countered.

Shmi snarled at him and gripped her lightsabers tightly. "They are no match for me," she said.

"We'll see about that," Obi-Wan said.

Shmi spun around once again and donned her hood. Anakin looked away from his mother to see a formation approaching through the gate where he and Padmé had arrived from. Shmi stepped in front of him and Padmé and brandished her lightsabers at her sides. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had backed away from his pillar and was walking away slowly with his eyes still fixated on Shmi.

"Who is it? What's happening?" Anakin asked, unable to see around his mother's form.

"The Jedi have arrived," Shmi growled.

As she said this, Anakin heard the sounds of dozens of lightsabers being activated at once. Anakin grabbed Padmé's hand as he looked around to see that they had been surrounded by lightsaber-wielding Jedi, green and blue blades dotting the circumference of the sand pit. Directly in front of them stood a row of a dozen Jedi, and while Anakin couldn't see his face due to his view being obstructed by Shmi, Anakin could tell based on the purple blade that at the front of the row was the leader of the Order himself: Mace Windu.

"Leave while you still can, Jedi," Shmi spat to her former master. Still holding onto Padmé's hand, Anakin sidestepped his mother so that he could get a better view of what was happening. Windu was staring back at Shmi with a cool yet determined expression. It seemed as if he didn't recognize her since he was unable to see her face beneath the hood.

"Darth Tyranus, I presume?" Windu asked, twirling his activated lightsaber casually in his right hand before assuming an offensive posture.

"Incorrect, my friend. It is I who is Darth Tyranus."

Anakin swiveled his head upward and to the right at the sound of Dooku's distinctly sonorous voice. He was standing atop the elevated platform where the Geonosian king had been minutes earlier. He was staring down at them with an impassive expression, his hands placed casually behind his back.

"Dooku," Windu said, looking up to see the Count. "I should have known you were involved in this."

"You made a grave error coming here, Master Windu," Dooku said.

"Where is he?" Shmi asked, keeping her eyes fixated on Windu. "What have you done with Qui-Gon?"

Dooku frowned, his eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Shmi. "Darth Elegius," he greeted cautiously. "I must say, I didn't expect you. I can assure you that –" Dooku ceased talking abruptly, his eyes bulging outward as he reached up toward his throat.

"Where is he?" she asked again with steely calm. Anakin could scarcely believe what he was seeing. His mother was strangling Dooku, one of the most powerful Force-sensitives in the galaxy, from several hundred feet away without even looking at him. With a slight twitch of her neck, Shmi released Dooku from her grasp, causing him to stumble forward a bit into the railing in front of him.

"He is here," Dooku said before retching horribly and caressing his throat.

"Bring him to me," Shmi demanded.

"I'm afraid you don't understand what is happening here, my dear," Dooku croaked.

"Enlighten me," Shmi said.

Dooku hesitated, his eyes darting about in a panicky fashion. "I will, but not now," he said. "For now, the Jedi must be dealt with."

"I can take care of that myself," Shmi said ominously.

"I don't think so," Windu said, interjecting himself back into the conversation.

"Very generous of you, my dear, but that won't be necessary," Dooku said, ignoring Windu's contribution. With that, he raised his hand into the air and snapped his fingers.

With that command, the remaining gates along the perimeter of the pit began to open. Windu and Shmi finally looked away from each other to see what was going on. "Stay near me," Shmi whispered as she took a step back toward him and Padmé. "I will protect you."

"Protect us from what?" Anakin asked.

Just then, Anakin looked away suddenly when he heard the sound of thousands of synchronized footsteps approaching. Emerging from each of the gateways were row after row of interchangeable battle droids. The Jedi near the edges began to coalesce into a circle in the interior of the pit, their backs facing each other with lightsabers raised. Windu held up his hand, ordering his Jedi to remain in formation…

The droids all opened fire at once. Padmé shrieked as she fell to the ground to seek shelter by the pillar. None of the bolts seemed to be directed at them, however. Shmi oriented herself in front of him and Padmé, yet she didn't have anything to do other than watch the Jedi fight off the onslaught.

"You have to help them!" Anakin yelled over the deafening noise as he watched his comrades begin to fall one by one.

"The Jedi are your enemies, Anakin!" his mother shouted back to him.

"No they're not!" Anakin insisted. "We have to help them!"

"You will stay where you are!" Shmi bellowed, spinning around and forcing him backward with a thrust of her hand. Anakin collided into the pillar and slid down the ground by Padmé's side. Anakin tried to get back to his feet, but found that he was totally immobilized. His mother seemed to be keeping him in place without giving any indication that she was even paying attention to him as she returned her attention to the fight.

"Ani, are you okay?" Padmé asked, kneeling over him as she cupped his cheek.

"I can't move," he said through gritted teeth.

"What?" Padmé asked.

Anakin didn't elaborate as he continued to struggle against his invisible restraints. The sounds of battle were overwhelming his senses, and he desperately wanted to cover his ears with his hands. All of a sudden, the fire came to an abrupt end and Anakin felt himself get released.

"Master Windu!"

Anakin got to his feet with Padmé's assistance and looked up to see that Dooku was still standing on the platform looking down at them.

"You have fought gallantly," Dooku said to Windu. "Worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order. Now it is finished." He paused, a solemn expression etched on his face. "Surrender, and your lives will be spared," he concluded.

"We will not be hostages for you to barter with, Dooku," Windu said defiantly.

Dooku smirked, seemingly amused by Windu's lack of cooperation. "Perhaps one additional factor will encourage you to reconsider," he said.

Anakin felt a subtle, indescribable ripple in the Force. Unsure of what had just happened, Anakin looked to his mother who had deactivated her lightsabers and was looking up at the platform with wide eyes. Following her gaze, Anakin saw a figure approaching from behind Dooku. As he approached, Anakin caught his breath: it was his father, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Qui-Gon came to a stop at Dooku's side and looked down toward him. He smiled softly before turning to see Shmi standing next to him. His calm expression transformed into one of shock as he laid eyes on his wife for the first time in ten years. Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something but stopped abruptly when Dooku whispered something in his ear.

"I will offer you a bargain," Dooku said loudly when he turned away from Qui-Gon. "Surrender now, and I will spare Master Jinn's life."

"Never," Windu said without hesitation. "You will not coerce us into submission, Dooku."

"No!" Anakin screamed, unable to stop himself. "Master, please!"

"Then you give me no choice," Dooku said, ignoring Anakin's exclamation.

"Dooku, stop!" Shmi yelled, yet the Sith paid her no heed. Activating his lightsaber, Dooku sliced it through the air with lightning speed, not giving Shmi any time to be able to stop him with the Force. The red blade pierced Qui-Gon's chest and went straight through him. His body went limp for a moment before abruptly disappearing, his empty robes collapsing down the ground. Just like that, his father was gone.

Anakin barely had time to internalize what had just happened when a horrible shriek pierced the air, forcing Anakin and the rest of the Jedi to plug their ears with their fingers. Unprecedented darkness coursed through the Force, blotting out the sun and casting a horrible chill over the arena. Anakin's eyes widened in terror as he watched his mother raise her hands to the sky. The energy she commanded exploded from her fingertips and grasped Dooku. The Count was lifted into the air by his throat, his limbs stretched outward spread-eagle. With one more stentorian scream, Shmi thrust her arms down to her sides violently. Anakin shut his eyes tightly, but not in time before he saw what happened to Dooku.

His limbs were wrenched out of their sockets and severed away from his torso with a sickening snap. As his limbless body collapsed back down to the ground, his neck seemed to fold in on itself, crushed under the pressure Shmi had applied to it. Dooku's mutilated corpse hit the side of the railing and tumbled off the platform to the ground where it collided into the sand with a thud.

Quaking in terror, Anakin stumbled away from his mother as she turned away from Dooku to face Windu. "You killed him!" she roared. "You let him die!"

Never before had Anakin seen the venerable Jedi Master express fear like he did in that moment. Backing away from her, Windu raised his lightsaber defensively. Undeterred by the fact that Windu was surrounded with allies, Shmi activated her two blades and ran directly at him. Her black cloaked figure devolved into a blur as she fought with incomprehensible speed and brutality. Any Jedi who stepped in her path to defend Windu was cut down as Shmi fought her way toward him. By the time Shmi finally reached Windu, half a dozen Masters and Knights had fallen to the sand, dead or otherwise grievously injured.

"Stop!" Anakin screamed desperately as Shmi engaged Windu, her two blades seemingly morphing into one as she hacked at Windu with furious speed. Shmi of course paid no attention to him as she pushed Windu back. The remaining Jedi were unable to rush to Windu's assistance, however, because the droids had opened fire once again.

"Come on!" Anakin yelled to Padmé as he ducked in a futile attempt to avoid the maelstrom of bolts. "Let's take cover over there!" Grabbing her hand, Anakin led Padmé toward the cart which they had arrived in. It had been toppled over and was lying on its side, providing a perfect place for them to take cover.

"Anakin!"

Looking up, Anakin saw Obi-Wan running toward them. He stopped for a second to deflect a bolt with a blue lightsaber he had somehow managed to acquire before reaching into his robes and producing another hilt. "Take this!" he called out, throwing the lightsaber to him.

Anakin grabbed the hilt out of the air and activated it at once, revealing an emerald green blade just like his father's. At the thought of his father, Anakin winced. Was he truly dead? He had watched Dooku cut right through him, but why had his body disappeared like it had? It didn't make any sense. Yet despite that oddity, he couldn't sense his father's presence anymore. In all likelihood, he was gone forever…

"Anakin, look!"

Reorienting himself, Anakin saw that Padmé was pointing at something from the cover of the cart. Following her finger toward the epicenter of the battle, Anakin saw his mother prowling over Windu who was on his knees before her, clutching at his arm.

"I hate you!" he heard Shmi yell, her voice barely audible over the sounds of battle.

"Who… who are you?" he saw Windu say, reading the Jedi's lips since he wasn't able to hear him.

"I am Darth Elegius," Shmi said as she raised her two lightsabers over her head, preparing to strike down at the defenseless Windu…

The thunderous sound of engines caused Shmi to hesitate and look up away from Windu. Anakin looked up as well to see that the sky was all but blotted out by innumerable vessels which were descending toward the arena. The battle droids began redirecting their fire to these newcomers, indicating that they were not reinforcements.

"What is going on?" Padmé asked, having to scream over the noise.

"I have no idea!" Anakin replied. Returning his attention to his mother, he saw that she had discarded her lightsabers while Windu was nowhere in sight. Evidently, he had managed to escape.

"No! No!" she shrieked, holding her hands up to the sky. Anakin's mouth fell open in disbelief when a bolt of bright blue lightning erupted from his mother's finger tips and struck one of the vessels, causing it to explode into flames. "You bastards!" Shmi screamed. "You'll pay! You'll pay for what you did!"

Two more lightning bolts summoned by Shmi struck down a pair of ships, but the incoming armada was clearly too much for her to handle. As they continued their descent, the ships began to strafe the droids on the ground, scattering them with ease.

Scores of soldiers dressed in sleek white armor jumped off the transports when they touched down onto the sandy ground. With mechanical efficiency, the mysterious soldiers began pursuing the droid army which was now routing toward the exits.

"Anakin, come with me."

Looking away from the battle, Anakin saw that Shmi had returned and was holding out her hand. Anakin stared at the outstretched hand and shook his head vigorously.

"What have you become?" he asked her, his voice trembling with fear.

"What I was meant to be," she said at once, her voice laden with ironclad determination. "Come. We don't have much time."

Anakin looked around her to see that a dozen or so Jedi were closing in on them with lightsabers at the ready. "No, Mom," he said, brandishing his green lightsaber tightly in his hands as he bent his knees. "I won't join you. You're a monster!"

Shmi's face twitched in fury at the accusation. "The Jedi have lied to you, Anakin. Can't you see that?" she said forcefully. "They killed your father! They ruined our family!"

"No," Anakin said with a shake of his head. "You're wrong, Mom. I will not turn."

Shmi glanced behind her, detecting the semicircular formation of Jedi slowly encroaching upon them. "Ani, please," she said, her voice cracking as she thrust her hand forward toward him. "Please come with me."

Caught off guard by the desperation in her tone, Anakin hesitated for a moment as he lowered his lightsaber. He had dreamed of being reunited with his mother for ten years, but now that he saw what she had become he no longer knew if he wanted that anymore. Yet as she extended he hand toward him and pleaded for him to join her, he knew that woman whom he had known from his childhood was still there. She needed him, perhaps even more so than he needed her. Was it possible for him to salvage his mother from the monster she had become? Didn't he have an obligation to at least try? Wasn't it his duty as her son to try and save her?

His deliberation lasted a moment too long, however. Evidently deciding that Anakin wasn't going to take her hand, she dropped it to her side and produced her lightsabers. Spinning away from him, she engaged the Jedi with the same ruthless efficiency as before.

"Stop!" Anakin cried, watching in horror as the Jedi attackers fell one by one to Shmi's blades. There was nothing he could do to stop it, however. He was forced to watch as his mother slaughtered his comrades…

"Anakin, we have to get out of here!" he heard Padmé say urgently from behind him. Anakin didn't respond, feeling as if he were frozen in place. Perhaps understanding his predicament, Padmé grabbed his free hand and wrenched him away from the cart and toward one of the exits.

"There they are!"

Anakin and Padmé stopped running when a troop transport vessel descended in front of them and blocked their path to the exit.

"Get in!"

Anakin had never before felt so relieved to see Obi-Wan in his life. Rushing forward, he and Padmé jumped onto the vessel which promptly took off. Pressing his hand against the hull of the vessel to stabilize himself, Anakin looked down at the arena which was rapidly growing smaller as the ship elevated.

"Where is she? Where's Shmi?" Obi-Wan asked, speaking over the roar of the engines.

When Anakin didn't respond, Padmé answered him instead. "She was still in the arena," she yelled. "She was fighting with some other Jedi when you came for us."

Obi-Wan bit his lower lip nervously as he looked down at the arena alongside Anakin. "Did she ask you to join her?" Obi-Wan asked him. Anakin nodded his head, knowing that he wouldn't be able to respond audibly. "It was very brave of you to resist her," Obi-Wan said with a pat on his back. "You did well, Anakin."

"Where did this army come from?" Padmé asked.

"Master Yoda summoned them from Kamino," Obi-Wan explained.

Padmé asked a follow up question, but Anakin tuned them out, leaning heavily against the ship's hull as he turned away from the open section of the transport. As they flew farther and farther away from the battle, the trauma of what had just happened began to crash down on him in waves. Firstly, he was still marveling at – or perhaps lamenting – what had happened to his mother. She had transformed from the gentle, albeit stern woman whom he had admired and loved into a heartless killing machine. How had such a radical and horrific metamorphosis taken place? Where had she been all these years? Training in the dark side? If so, under who's tutelage? Dooku's? Sidious'? Someone else entirely?

Thoughts of his mother gave way quickly to those of his father, however. He didn't know how to react. He wanted to be able to cry, but found that he was unable, perhaps on account to him still being in shock. The fateful moment when Dooku stabbed his father through the heart kept repeating in his mind in an agonizing loop. The bizarrely peaceful expression on his father's face in his final moment was imprinted in Anakin's mind. It couldn't possibly be true. His father couldn't be gone…

"Ani, are you alright?"

Anakin's eyes refocused to see a deeply concerned Padmé looking up at him. Obi-Wan had turned away and was talking with the pilot of the ship, giving them a modicum of privacy. Anakin felt his lower lip tremble as he shook his head. Wordlessly, Padmé wrapped her arms around him and caressed his back gently. Shutting his eyes tight, Anakin rested his chin against her shoulder and wished that this hellish nightmare would end.

* * *

"Who do you serve? Tell me!"

The Geonosian king cowered in abject terror before Shmi's wrath. The sounds of the ensuing battle echoed dully in the distance as sand cascaded down from the ceilings. Having been forced to flee the arena by the swarms of Jedi and clones, Shmi had managed to slip away back into the Geonosian palace. Locating the high command of the Separatists (sans Dooku, of course) she had locked the terrified agglomeration of representatives and generals in their command room under threat of death.

Shmi slashed her red lightsaber in the air violently when the Geonosian did not answer her. "Don't make me kill you," she warned ominously. "Tell me who you work for." The Geonosian king made a series of clicking sounds which Shmi was unable to identify. "I can't understand you!" she bellowed in frustration. "Basic? Do you speak it?"

The king shook his head vigorously and pointed a long, spindly finger to something in the distance. Glancing behind her to see what he was pointing at, Shmi saw a gold-plated protocol droid standing awkwardly in the sole open doorway.

"Oh my," the droid exclaimed when he saw Shmi staring at him. "I do believe I have made a terrible mistake."

"Come here, droid," Shmi said, beckoning it forward. Complying instantly, the droid waddled forward toward her. "Do you speak this language?" she asked, gesturing to the Geonosian with her head.

"Why of course," the droid informed her cheerfully. "I am fluent in over six million forms of communication."

Shmi quirked an eyebrow and stared at the droid with increased interest. She had heard that line before. "What is your name?" she asked impulsively. She knew it wasn't in her best interest to be idling away time in the midst of a raging battle, but something about this droid fascinated her for some indescribable reason.

"I am C-3P0, human-cyborg relations," the droid said with a slight bow of its domed head.

"Threepio?" Shmi repeated, stunned beyond belief. This was Threepio? The droid her son had made ten years ago on Tatooine? What was he doing here?

"Yes, that is my classification," Threepio told her dryly.

"You don't remember me?" Shmi asked.

"I'm afraid not," Threepio said apologetically. "Have we met before?"

"It's me, Shmi!" she said, feeling dejected by how nobody seemed to recognize her anymore.

Threepio stared at her blankly for a few moments. Or perhaps she was merely reading too much into his expression – he only had the one, after all. "Mistress Skywalker?" he said finally. "Sincerest apologies for my rudeness. My memory banks must have been corrupted! I don't remember you ever having such a… luminous countenance."

Shmi beamed at him, deciding to interpret this description as a compliment. "And I don't remember you ever having gold plating," she said conversationally. "When did you get that?"

"Master Dooku provided it to me," Threepio said proudly. The garrulous droid looked as if he had more to say, but Shmi stopped him with a raise of her hand.

"Dooku is your master?" she asked incredulously.

"Why yes, Mistress Skywalker," Threepio said with a tilt of his head. "The Count is a most gracious master."

"Well he's dead now, so that makes me your master again, got it?" Shmi told him bluntly.

"I beg your pardon?" Threepio said, somehow managing to convey bewilderment in spite of his perpetually blank expression.

"Hold on just a minute," Shmi said. Turning away from the droid, Shmi reached across her body with her already extended hand and grabbed the Geonosian king with the Force. He had been slowly walking away while she had been distracted with Threepio, evidently having deluded himself into believing he could escape. "I'm not done with you," she growled as she pulled him back toward her by his throat.

"I do apologize, but I must be going," Threepio said, clearly disconcerted by the vicissitudes of her temperament. "I must find Master Dooku, you see. He needs to know that –"

"You're not going anywhere either," she said sternly. "I require your services, Threepio."

"You do?" Threepio asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"Indeed," Shmi affirmed. "I need you to translate." Turning back to the Geonosian king who was still suspended a few inches in the air, the vivacious humor Threepio had inspired in her disappeared once more. "I am going to ask this one more time," she said in a low voice. "Who do you work for?" The king made an undignified squawking sound and flailed his knobby arms wildly in the air. "What did he say?" Shmi asked to Threepio.

"I'm afraid I can't understand him," Threepio told her. "Perhaps you should release the pressure on his larynx?" he suggested cautiously.

"Fine," Shmi conceded insouciantly. The Geonosian fell to the ground and doubled over, retching grotesquely just like Dooku had done when she had choked him just a little while earlier. Shmi activated her red lightsaber and held it directly over the king's exposed neck, the crackle of the corrupted blade causing him to freeze in fear. "This is your last chance," she said ominously.

Not daring to move his head for fear that Shmi would strike him down, the Geonosian spoke directly into the floor. Shmi glanced at Threepio, hoping that he would be able to translate this muffled message. "Translate," she demanded to the droid once he had finished.

Without hesitation, Threepio began relaying the message. "His exultancy the Archduke Poggle the Lesser, humble servant of the Great Queen Karina of the Geonosians, solemnly warns you not to interfere in the matters of the Confederacy of Independent Systems," he began in a highfalutin tone. "He says that his overseer is not a man you want to oppose."

"His overseer?" Shmi repeated. "What does that mean?"

"The Confederacy is led by a very powerful man," Threepio said, translating as Poggle spoke. "He oversees everything. Both the Confederacy and the Republic."

"Does he now?" Shmi asked lowly, her suspicions being confirmed. Deactivating the lightsaber hovering over the Geonosian's neck, Shmi kneeled down so that her face was directly in front of Poggle's. "I want you to tell your overseer that his reign is coming to an end," she said in a steely whisper. "Tell Lord Sidious that Darth Elegius is coming for him, and that when I find him I will destroy him just like I destroyed Dooku."


	16. The Proposal

_Two days later_

_Naboo_

Anakin's head was whirling with everything that had happened over the past few days. His previous life had been shattered to pieces, and now he didn't even know who he was anymore. Was he still even a Jedi? He had never felt fully welcome within the Order beforehand, and the loss of his father served to only deepen that chasm between him and the rest of the Jedi. Qui-Gon had been the tether which gave him purpose vis-à-vis the Order. In spite of the Council's aloofness and downright frigid demeanor toward him, Anakin had always put up with them because it was what his father wanted for him.

When Windu had so flippantly dismissed Dooku's offer to save his father's life, Anakin's already-thin loyalty to the Jedi all but snapped. They had been given the chance to save Qui-Gon's life, yet they hadn't even bothered to pause to consider the option. All his life, he had known that the Jedi disliked his father on account of his recalcitrance and liberal-minded interpretation of the Force, but never had he thought that they disrespected him so thoroughly that they would scoff at the offer Dooku proposed to them.

Anakin knew he was furious at the Jedi and at Windu in particular, but he forced himself to stow away his feelings deep inside. He had seen what his mother had devolved into when she turned to the dark side, and it terrified him. He didn't want to become anything like her. Yet what was he supposed to do? Pretend as if he wasn't affected by his father's death? Lie to himself and say that he had no quarrel with the Council? That was impossible!

On the subject of impossibilities, Anakin was similarly conflicted about his relationship with Padmé. He did love her, that was something he could not deny, but what he was no longer sure of was whether he wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with her. His newfound doubts were not on account to anything Padmé had done. On the contrary, it was entirely founded in his own nascent fears and inhibitions.

Once again, it was his mother's transformation which terrified him. Her love for Qui-Gon, while pure in its essence, had been the conduit by which she had fallen to the darkness. When he died, she hadn't chosen to grieve as Anakin had done, but instead had directed her rage against the Jedi whom she blamed for Qui-Gon's death. She murdered her former comrades without a moment's hesitation.

Could his love for Padmé have a similarly deleterious effect on his morality in the future? Of course not, he would tell himself. Surely he would never do such a thing! Yet how could he be so sure? Shmi was his mother, after all, and as Qui-Gon had constantly reminded him, he took after her far more so than he did after him. Could he have an innate proclivity to darkness like his mother did? If so, didn't he have an obligation to prevent himself from repeating the same mistakes she had made? Didn't he have an obligation to stop himself from falling in love like she had?

This agonizing moral dilemma dominated his thoughts as he and Padmé made the trip back to Naboo in the wake of the battle on Geonosis. She fortunately had not prodded him to share his feelings, evidently deciding that it was best for him to grieve alone for now. He could tell that she was worried for him, however. It was abundantly clear to him now that she did care for him, intensely so, in fact. This only served to amplify his anxieties and provide greater urgency to his questions. If he was going to do the noble thing and split himself off from Padmé for the greater good of the galaxy, he would have to do it now while their relationship was still fluid and undefined.

Yet while he knew what he had to do, he didn't know if he had the strength to do it. It was easy to admit that pursuing a relationship with Padmé would in all likelihood be a mistake, but it was exponentially more difficult for him to actually tell Padmé the brutal truth. The decision to return to Naboo would no doubt exacerbate his conflict, as he could scarcely conceive of a more tranquil and romantic place in the entire galaxy. How was he going to do this?

Upon returning to the Theed spaceport, Anakin and Padmé made their way back to Varykino. Anakin kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of him as he drove the speeder deliberately slowly so as to give himself more time to think. Padmé kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, clearly unsure whether or not she should attempt to engage him somehow. His deafening silence was probably inordinately disconcerting to her. She probably thought that he had lost it, and to an extent he had.

Finally after an hour Padmé spoke, shocking Anakin who had long since come to the conclusion that they were going to make the trip in merciful silence. "Anakin, please talk to me," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the speeder. "Tell me what you're feeling. I want to help you."

Anakin shook his head, not able to look at her. It was easier this way, he thought as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "I'm so sorry, Padmé," he said in a strained voice. "I can't do it."

"Do what?" she asked.

Anakin clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to shut his eyes since he needed to keep them on the road. He struggled for nearly a full minute to find the right words, but finally gave up. Padmé watched him all the while, her lips pursed and her forehead creased with concern. When it became clear that he wasn't going to speak, she sighed and looked away. "You don't have to talk to me now," she said, demonstrating admirable forbearance in the face of his oppressive reticence. "But in time, I need you to feel like you can talk to me. If this is going to work, we have to be able to talk to each other. Can you do that?"

"What is 'this'?" Anakin asked, unable to stop himself.

Padmé hesitated for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Our relationship," she said eventually, the word posed somewhere in between a question and a statement.

Anakin said nothing to this, his already tumultuous conscience being stirred into a maelstrom of doubt and self-loathing. How could he do this to her? Better yet, how could he do this to himself? Why was he forcing himself to abstain from the one thing he had aspired to obtain for the better half of his adolescence? Why should he have to punish himself for a crime he hadn't even committed yet?

"Do you not… want that anymore?" Padmé asked, her typically confident voice laced with nervousness and self-doubt.

For the first time Anakin looked away from the road to her. She was staring at him with wide, glistening eyes. At once, Anakin felt even worse about himself when he considered this situation from her point of view. She had taken an enormous leap of faith in professing her feelings for him. To be fair, she hadn't expected to live much longer after she had made that confession, but nonetheless she was now clearly dedicated to him in spite of the obstacles which had once caused her to resist succumbing to her feelings for him. Now their roles had abruptly flipped as Anakin was the one seeing things from a logical perspective whereas she no longer cared for the consequences. Padmé wasn't used to being in that position. All her life, she had abided by the rules. The abrupt alteration of her previously steady path must be terribly disorienting and fear-inducing for her. She must be thinking that the one time she actually took a risk and deviated from the rules would result in her heart being broken by him.

And she was right, wasn't she? That was exactly what Anakin intended to do. He had put in so much effort into coercing her into breaking the rules. Now that he had finally gotten what he wanted from her, he was going to spit in her face and tell her nothing could happen between them. It was a heartless and despicable thing to do, and it certainly wasn't the sort of thing one did to a person they supposedly loved.

"Anakin?" Padmé asked in a tremulous voice. "Say something."

Anakin exhaled loudly and looked away from her. "Just… give me some time," he said finally, feeling horrible when he sensed Padmé's wavering spirits plummet at these words. "I need to think."

Padmé swallowed audibly and nodded. "Okay," she said faintly as she clasped her hands in her lap. Anakin felt a single tear escape from his right eye as he resumed his attention to the road.

The conflict brewing within him was tearing him apart, and it was all his mother's fault. Her monstrosity had caused him to question everything about himself. Metaphorical limb by metaphorical limb, she was dismantling him just like she had Dooku. At least the Count's suffering had been brief. The agony her actions had inflicted upon him was far more enduring and consequently far more terrible.

He hated her for what she had become and he hated her for what she had done to him, regardless of whether she had intended to do it or not. Finally he understood his father's complicated feelings for her, which had previously been so enigmatic to him. Shmi Skywalker was as easy to hate as she was to love.

* * *

An hour later, Anakin was leaning against the marble railing on the patio at Varykino. The sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, illuminating the cloudless sky a brilliant orange which reflected and shimmered against the surface of the placid lake. A gentle breeze carried the rich, ambrosial scent of the distant wooded hills to his nostrils. Inhaling deeply, Anakin closed his eyes and released the tension he had been carrying within him out through the Force. Naboo always had this sort of effect on him. He suspected it was similar to how his father told him about the effect Serenno had on him, which was where he had gotten married.

There was so much he wanted to ask his father. He needed his help more so than ever, but now he would be forced to navigate the rest of his life without him. It was so horrifically unfair…

"Hey."

Anakin didn't need to look around to know that Padmé had arrived, standing a few feet behind him with a heavy sense of trepidation. He was confident that she knew exactly what he was thinking, and was feeling immeasurably insecure because of it.

"Hey," Anakin responded.

"Mind if I join you?"

Anakin didn't respond at once, but instead stood up straight and turned to look at her. She had changed out of the grimy white outfit which she had been wearing on Geonosis, and was now wearing a modest yet nonetheless flattering dark blue dress inlaid with minute, sparkling silver stones. Her hair, which had been done up in a bun until now, had been released and was cascading down past her shoulders, seemingly endless chestnut curls framing her face. To complete the outfit, she wore a pair of silken white gloves which terminated just below her elbows.

"I don't know," he said upon admiring how beautiful she looked in the late-afternoon light. "Should you?"

"I want to," she said, catching on to the dual nature of his words. "You know that I want to."

"Aren't you still afraid of me?" he asked. "Aren't you afraid of what I could become?"

"You aren't your mother, Anakin," Padmé said, stepping toward him determinedly. "Just two days ago you told me you would never do anything to hurt me. Nothing has changed since then!"

"How can you say that?" Anakin asked. "Everything has changed!"

"Only because you choose to think that," Padmé countered. Reaching out, she grabbed his right hand with her two gloved ones. Clasping his hand tightly, she shook it emphatically. "You're not a bad person, Anakin," she said passionately. "Please don't push me away."

"I want you to be safe, Padmé," Anakin said, placing his left hand atop her two gloved ones. "Don't you see? I'm just like her! That's why I nearly strangled you that time."

"No, Anakin!" Padmé said, pulling her hands away so that she could grab him by the shoulders. "You aren't like her at all."

"How do you know that?" Anakin asked. Padmé seemed unable to say anything to this and Anakin chose to interpret her silence as concession to the point. "You can't," he said. "You can't know for sure."

"You're right, I can't," she said. "But I don't care. I want to be with you!"

"And I want to be with you too, Padmé. I love you. I always have and I always will, but don't you see how dangerous that is? My mother turned into a monster because of her love for my father! What if I do too?"

"I won't let you!" Padmé insisted stubbornly.

"You can't control that," Anakin said. Reaching up, he gently removed her hands from his shoulders and walked away. Turning his back on her, he ran his hands through his hair agitatedly, his fingernails scratching dully against his scalp. "I can feel it," he said. "I feel the darkness within me."

"What do you mean?" Padmé asked, sounding somewhat fearful of this ominous statement.

"I'm angry, Padmé," he confessed. "I'm angry at the Jedi just like my mother is. They let my father die and I hate them for that."

"It's natural for you to feel that way," Padmé said. "It's alright for you to be angry."

"Not for a person like me," Anakin said, turning around slowly to face her. "I'm not normal, Padmé. When I get angry, bad things can happen."

"So what are you going to do?" Padmé asked. "Pretend as if you don't have feelings? Pretend that you're not angry with the Jedi? Pretend that you don't love me?"

"If I have to!" Anakin exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

"You can't do that, Anakin," Padmé said. "It's not possible to bottle up your emotions like that."

"The Jedi do it," Anakin pointed out.

"But you're not a Jedi, are you?" Padmé said.

Anakin raised an eyebrow, surprised by this insightful statement. "What do you mean?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"You're not like Obi-Wan or the others," Padmé analyzed. "You weren't raised from birth by the Order. You were raised by your parents. The Jedi weren't able to brainwash you like they did Obi-Wan."

"Obi-Wan isn't brainwashed!" Anakin said, feeling indignant on behalf of his friend.

"Of course he is!" Padmé said, gesticulating wildly with her white-clothed hands. "He's been taught not to have emotions! That's not natural, Anakin."

"It may not be natural, but it is necessary," Anakin intoned.

"That's an absurd thing to say," Padmé said, crossing her arms in front of her chest angrily. "You're a person, Anakin, not a droid. You can't do that to yourself. It would destroy you."

"Then what would you have me do instead, Padmé?" Anakin asked, frustrated by the validity of her arguments when he didn't want to hear them.

"Marry me," she said.

"What?" Anakin asked, his mouth falling open in shock.

"You heard me," she said laconically.

Anakin gaped at her for a few more tenuous moments. "Y-you want me to… marry you?" he said slowly.

"Yes," she said at once, the determination in her tone belying her embarrassment and insecurity which was only betrayed by the slight pink tinge of her cheeks. She was laying her heart on the line, giving him full permission to do with it what he pleased. Should he accept it like she wanted him to do, or would he stomp on it by denying her?

How could he possibly deny her? Three days ago, he had been wondering if she would ever talk to him again. The prospect that she would literally be proposing marriage to him would have been beyond ludicrous to him then. Who was he kidding? It was ludicrous to him now!

"Like… right now?" Anakin asked, his mouth feeling dry and his throat scratchy as he struggled to wrap his mind around this entirely unexpected turn of events. Why was it that the most incomprehensible things always seemed to happen to him on this patio?

"Why not?" Padmé asked with a nonchalant shrug.

"I can think of a lot of reasons why not," Anakin said.

"That's funny," she said, although her voice indicated no such humor. "I don't remember you ever being one who was afraid of the consequences."

"The consequences were trivial before, Padmé!" Anakin said exasperatedly, feeling overwhelmed by her stubborn persistence. Perhaps this was how she had felt during the past week when the roles had been reversed. He so desperately wanted to say yes, but also knew that he couldn't possibly do that.

"They were never trivial, Anakin!" Padmé said. "The only difference is that you're afraid now and I'm not."

"I'm not afraid!" Anakin insisted automatically.

"Yes you are!" Padmé said, swiping her hand in front of her angrily, causing Anakin to flinch. "You're afraid to commit yourself to me!"

"No I'm not."

"You know what? You are like your mother after all," she said bitingly. "You're running away from love ostensibly for some noble purpose but it's really because you're just afraid of the responsibility. Do you deny it?" she asked when Anakin's mouth fell open in indignation and disbelief at this trenchant assessment.

"I…I…"

Padmé shook her head bitterly at his stammering. "You're pathetic, Anakin," she spat viciously, the furious expression on her face highlighted by glistening, tear-filled eyes. She was angry, yes, but she was devastated more so than anything. She had laid everything out on the line and had gotten burned. Now she was reverting back to her shell, determined to never let herself get hurt again.

"Padmé –"

"Stay away from me, Anakin," she said as she spun around and practically ran away from him so as to hide the tears which were now flowing down her face freely.

* * *

_Coruscant_

The next day, Anakin left Varykino without saying goodbye to Padmé. He had been summoned back to Coruscant to report before the Jedi Council, and since Dooku was dead, Padmé no longer had any need of a bodyguard. Feeling utterly dejected, Anakin made his way back to the Theed spaceport where he got on an express ship to Coruscant. For the entire duration of the trip, Anakin's thoughts drifted between Padmé, Qui-Gon, and Shmi in a torturous loop.

Upon returning to Coruscant, Anakin was met by Obi-Wan at the same spaceport where he and Padmé had departed a week prior. Lugging his bag behind him, Anakin walked up to Obi-Wan with a surly frown. He didn't want to have to deal with Obi-Wan right now. He just wanted to be alone.

"How are you?" Obi-Wan asked when Anakin set his bag down with a thud.

"Terrible," Anakin said honestly. "Have you come to take me to the Temple?"

"No," Obi-Wan said. "The Council doesn't wish to talk to you until tomorrow morning. Master Yoda thinks it's best if you have some time to recuperate."

Anakin snorted derisively. "How kind of him," he said bitterly.

Obi-Wan frowned, but it wasn't a disapproving one which he wore so often. Instead, his expression was far more sympathetic. It was somewhat unnerving to Anakin who had never before seen Obi-Wan like this. In many ways, his seemingly genuine solicitude was reminiscent to Qui-Gon's. Anakin hadn't really realized how similar the two were until now.

"Where do you want to go?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Home," Anakin said at once. "I just want to go home."

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. Reaching down, he picked up Anakin's heavy bag and strapped it to his back with greater ease than Anakin would have been able to manage. "Come on," he said with a gentle pat on Anakin's shoulder. "Let's go."

Silently, Anakin followed Obi-Wan out of the spaceport and toward his speeder. For nearly fifteen minutes, neither said anything as they sat in the perpetually congested Coruscant traffic. Finally, Obi-Wan broke the silence.

"I want you to be able to talk to me, Anakin," he said. Anakin bit his tongue and looked away, remembering how Padmé had said practically the same thing to him the day before. "I know how you're feeling, at least somewhat," Obi-Wan said unexpectedly.

"Do you now?" Anakin asked dubiously.

"I loved Qui-Gon like a father as well, Anakin," Obi-Wan said defensively. "Don't think that you're the only one suffering."

Anakin sagged his head and looked down at his feet, feeling guilty for having dismissed Obi-Wan's grief so flippantly. In some ways, Qui-Gon actually meant more to Obi-Wan than he did to Anakin. Obi-Wan had never had a parent whereas Anakin had at least had his mother. Qui-Gon had practically adopted Obi-Wan as his own and had considered him as a son, even after he discovered Anakin. In that sense, he and Obi-Wan were as close to brothers as two people could be without actually being related.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Anakin apologized candidly.

"Don't be," Obi-Wan said in a husky voice, his eyes fixated on the traffic in front of him.

A silence more comfortable than the last ensued for a few moments as traffic creeped forward. While Obi-Wan could be insufferable and obnoxious at times, Anakin was grateful that he at least still had him. Perhaps their shared grief could allow them to move on past their petty sibling rivalry.

"Hey, Obi-Wan," Anakin said abruptly. "Can I ask you something?"

Obi-Wan glanced at him briefly before returning his eyes to the traffic like the responsible driver that he was. "Of course," he said.

"Do you think that the Jedi… tried to brainwash us?" he asked tentatively.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked, clearly caught off guard by the question.

"They say that we're not supposed to feel grief," Anakin said, speaking with greater confidence as his anger began to bubble to the surface. "They don't want us to be sad that Qui-Gon is gone."

"They don't want that, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly. "They don't want our grief to affect us, that's all."

"But that's the same as saying we shouldn't grieve at all!" Anakin insisted.

"That's not true," Obi-Wan said resolutely. When Anakin opened his mouth to object, Obi-Wan interrupted him. "I understand why you're upset, Anakin, but you cannot take it out on the Jedi. They are not responsible for this."

"But aren't they?" Anakin asked. "Master Windu refused to do anything when Dooku offered to spare Qui-Gon's life!"

"He had no other choice!" Obi-Wan insisted.

"Yes he did! You're lying to yourself if you think otherwise!" Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and didn't say anything to this, evidently deciding it was better to not engage Anakin on this point. Anakin looked away and recomposed himself, suppressing his anger once more. "It's not fair, Obi-Wan. None of it is fair."

"I know it's not, but you have to learn to deal with it like the rest of us," Obi-Wan snapped.

"So that's it, you just deal with it? You just pretend like nothing affects you?"

"Sometimes, yes," Obi-Wan admitted shortly.

Anakin's eyes widened a bit, surprised by this confession. The fact itself wasn't surprising – he knew it was impossible for a person to be able to suppress their emotions entirely like the Jedi trained them to do – but the admission itself was entirely unexpected. Never before would Obi-Wan have been so bold as to suggest that he too experienced emotions just like any other sentient being.

"What about love?" Anakin asked abruptly. "Do you pretend as if you don't feel that either?"

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked sharply.

"I know about Satine," Anakin said. "Qui-Gon told me all about her." Obi-Wan gripped the steering wheel tightly as his whole body seemed to tense up. "Do you still love her?" Anakin asked.

"That was a long time ago," Obi-Wan said stiffly. "And besides, it's none of your business."

"You didn't answer my question," Anakin said.

"Again. It's none of your business," Obi-Wan said through gritted teeth.

Anakin frowned and dug his nails angrily into his thigh, deeply irked by Obi-Wan's obstinate refusal to share his feelings. "Fine, don't tell me," he said. "Dad told me all I need to know anyway. I know you loved her but were too afraid to commit yourself to her."

"That's a lie," Obi-Wan insisted, yet Anakin ignored him.

"Was it a mistake?" Anakin asked.

"Pardon?"

"Do you regret it?"

"Anakin, I told you I don't want to talk about this."

"But –"

"No buts!" Obi-Wan interrupted sternly. "This is an entirely private matter. I'd appreciate it if you stopped this accusatory and downright offensive line of questioning."

"I'm not accusing you of anything!"

"Yes you are! You're trying to shame me into admitting that I made a mistake by not allowing myself to fall in love."

"I'm not trying to ridicule you, Obi-Wan," Anakin said, regaining his cool. "I want your advice."

"Advice?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding surprised. He could understand why he would be. Anakin never came to him for advice. He would always go to Qui-Gon for that.

"Yes, advice," Anakin affirmed.

"About what?" Obi-Wan asked, his defensiveness fading in the face of his curiosity and seemingly heartfelt desire to fulfill the role that Qui-Gon had once served for Anakin.

Surprised by the eagerness in Obi-Wan's tone, Anakin hesitated for a moment as he considered the wisdom of what he was about to do. He knew he could trust Obi-Wan – perhaps far more so than he could anyone else in the galaxy, in fact. After all, Obi-Wan had kept the secret of his parentage hidden for ten years. Why shouldn't he be able to trust him with this, especially in light of his own comparable experiences?

"Padmé asked me to marry her," he blurted out.

"What!?" Obi-Wan exclaimed, swiveling his head to stare at him with incredulous eyes.

"Look out!" Anakin yelled, pointing in front of him.

Returning his eyes to the traffic in front of them, Obi-Wan slammed on the breaks and swerved so as to avoid the speeder in front of them which he had been about to collide into. Obi-Wan blinked furiously and held his hand up apologetically as they received a chorus of disapproving honks from surrounding speeders.

"Nice going," Anakin said sarcastically.

"You're messing with me," Obi-Wan said.

"Not at all," Anakin said. "She asked me to marry her."

"Padmé Amidala? The Senator of Naboo? You're telling me that _she_ asked you to marry her?"

"That's the one," Anakin confirmed, smirking at Obi-Wan's disbelief.

"You're lying," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head vigorously.

"Why would I lie about that?" Anakin asked.

"I don't know!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "You have to be lying! She would never do that!"

"How do you know that?" Anakin asked, beginning to feel somewhat offended by the extent of Obi-Wan's incredulity. He knew it was unexpected, but it couldn't possibly be as implausible as Obi-Wan was making it seem… could it?

"She's too responsible to propose something so rash and frankly ridiculous," Obi-Wan said.

"It's not ridiculous!" Anakin insisted defensively.

"It's asinine!"

"You're asinine!" Anakin shot back childishly.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and shook his head again, seemingly having convinced himself that this was a practical joke not worth his time. Anakin ground his teeth angrily and forced himself to remain calm in spite of Obi-Wan's condescension.

"Okay, don't believe it if you don't want to," he compromised. "Let's say _hypothetically _Padmé asked me to marry her. What would you suggest I do?"

"Hypothetically?" Obi-Wan repeated, pressing the accelerator as the traffic relented a bit.

"Sure," Anakin said exasperatedly as his Padawan braid was flung backward in the wind when Obi-Wan began passing speeders with uncommon recklessness.

Seemingly assuaged by this false assurance, Obi-Wan calmed down and considered the question. "Well if this hypothetically did happen, I would hypothetically tell you that you would be hypothetically insane to even consider it," he said.

"That last hypothetical doesn't even make sense," Anakin said with a frown.

"Whatever," Obi-Wan dismissed with a wave of his hand. "The point stands regardless."

"So you think I should tell her no?" Anakin asked. "Hypothetically," he added hastily for Obi-Wan's sake.

"Of course! Anakin, you are forbidden from forming attachments! You would be expelled from the Jedi Order if your relationship was uncovered."

"Qui-Gon didn't care about that," Anakin pointed out.

"And look at how well that ended for him," Obi-Wan said in a strained voice.

Anakin looked away sharply and chewed on his lower lip. He hadn't known what he had expected seeking advice from Obi-Wan. He had known that was what he was going to tell him. Even so, he desperately needed someone else to talk to. Bottling up all of his thoughts inside would drive him crazy in the end, just like Padmé had said.

A few minutes later, they finally flew away from the traffic of the main highway and traversed the lesser-traveled skies toward Qui-Gon's apartment. He supposed it was his apartment now, actually. Parking the speeder on the semi-circular landing platform which jutted out from the top floor of the apartment building, Anakin and Obi-Wan jumped out of the speeder with identical grace. Anakin refused to look at Obi-Wan as they plodded toward the front door.

"What happened?" Anakin asked.

"Oh, I forgot," Obi-Wan said when they reached the door which had been blasted away. "Your mom did that."

"What was she doing here?" Anakin asked, stiffening at the mention of his mother.

"She came looking for Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said heavily as they stepped past the carnage and into the hallway. "She found me instead."

Anakin didn't bother to ask for more context to this vague statement. He didn't want to think about his mother any more than he had to by this point. The mere mention of her was distressing to him now. Head down, Anakin nearly ran into Obi-Wan who had stopped abruptly in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"Obi-Wan!" he exclaimed irritably. "What's wrong with you?"

"What are you doing here?" Obi-Wan asked stiffly, clearly talking to someone else. Bemused, Anakin pushed Obi-Wan aside to see who he was in the kitchen. He gasped in shock when he saw her leaning casually against the sink much like Qui-Gon used to do.

"Hello boys," his mother said with a smirk. "So good of you to show."

* * *

_Polis Massa_

Darth Sidious was deeply displeased as demonstrated by the nasty scowl visible beneath his hood. All things considered, things should have been looking up for him. After all, it seemed as if everything was going along as planned. Skywalker was becoming increasingly disenchanted with the Jedi on account to their alienation of his master and refusal to save his life. As he predicted ten years ago, Qui-Gon Jinn had proven to be immeasurably helpful to him after all.

Yet his mirth was spoiled by the arrival of an unanticipated actor: a so-called Darth Elegius. How could it be that he had no foreknowledge of this mystery Sith? He wasn't used to not knowing everything. His plans were entirely dependent on his omniscience. Somehow, Elegius had managed to keep her identity hidden from him until now.

She presented a problem for him. Not only had she eliminated his apprentice and seneschal Tyranus prematurely, she had also demonstrated a sophistication in the dark side which rivaled even his own. Who could she be? Where had she come from?

He had a theory, and that was why he found himself on this remote asteroid field in the Outer Rim. His scowl deepened as he stepped off his shuttle onto the sleek, white-plated hangar. So this had been where his former master had been idling away his days: on a lifeless rock. How pathetic.

Striding forth, Sidious walked through the hangar with the utmost confidence. Plagueis was no longer someone whom he feared. He knew the old muun master's powers were sapped. While he had of course intended to kill him all those years ago, the revelation that he was indeed still alive did not disturb him in the slightest. He knew that Plagueis did not present a threat to him. Perhaps he had made a grave miscalculation, however. Perhaps Plagueis had been keeping busy in spite of his own weaknesses. Could it be that this Elegius was Plagueis' new apprentice? He would get to the bottom of this in short time, and when he did, he would make sure that Plagueis did not cheat death a second time. This time he would show no mercy.

Exiting the hangar, Sidious came across a wide, luminous hallway. Curved windows along the left side of the hall revealed the darkness of space and little else besides a few scraggly, floating asteroids in the distance. Sparing no time to admire the view, Sidious floated on, his feet barely making a sound as his cape slid against the slick floor behind him. The distinct presence of his former master beckoned him forward, making him feel like an apprentice again. It was a good thing that after today, he would never have to feel that way again.

The hallway he had been walking through terminated with a broad, perforated set of silver doors. With an agitated flick of his wrist, Sidious pushed the doors open to reveal a featureless, dimly-lit chamber. Without hesitation, Sidious continued onward into the chamber, his previously silent footsteps now echoing loudly. In spite of himself, Sidious could feel his pulse begin to accelerate with anticipation as the decrepit and tenebrous form of his former master began to materialize in front of him. He was seated on a large chair – a throne, in fact, which was ironic given the futility of his position. He donned a breathing apparatus over his nose and mouth, no doubt a consequence of his lungs being fried when Sidious had attempted to kill him the first time. The raspy sound of his master's breathing dominated the chamber, the pitiful cadence sounding like music to Sidious' ears.

"I see you have returned to me, my young apprentice," Plagueis taunted when Sidious came to a stop a few meters in front of him. "Have you come for my teachings or to finish me off?"

Sidious snarled at him. "I think you know the answer to that, Master," he said in his characteristically vitriolic and gravelly voice.

"Indeed, I foresaw this day, but not for many years hence," Plagueis mused with infuriating apathy. "Why now?" he asked casually. "Surely I am not a threat to you."

"Not in the slightest," Sidious affirmed.

"Then why?"

At this seemingly innocent question, Sidious snapped and sent a wave of electricity toward his former master. Instinctively, Plagueis held his hands up to stop the blast, the bolts condensing into a crackling ball of electricity mere inches from his elongated face. Sidious snarled once more and redoubled his efforts, pushing past Plagueis' enfeebled defenses.

"You have been planning to defeat me!" Sidious yelled as Plagueis succumbed to the relentless assault, the lightning wrapping itself around his grey limbs like an anaconda.

"I am… too weak," Plagueis cried, his façade of nonchalance fading in the face of the horrific pain ravaging his body. "I would never!"

"Liar!" Sidious shrieked. He relished Plagueis' screams for a moment longer before ceasing the assault. The acrid smell of singed flesh filled the air as Sidious took two steps toward Plagueis. "Who is she?" he asked lowly.

"I don't… I don't know who you're talking about," Plagueis said, his voice sounding labored and high-pitched due to the strain placed on his respirator.

"Elegius," Sidious said, concluding the name of his newfound enemy with a fricative hiss.

With a colossal effort, Plagueis sat back upright and leaned forward toward Sidious. "She will destroy you," he growled.

"Who is she?" he asked again.

"Your end is near, my protégé," Plagueis said, completely ignoring Sidious' question. This vexed him immensely. Sidious didn't like being ignored.

"Tell me!" he bellowed, releasing a second wave of fury upon Plagueis. He cut the lightning short, however. He needed Plagueis alive for now. In his current state, he doubted he would be able to endure such an intense torture for much longer.

"I will never betray her," Plagueis moaned, his eyes dazed and unfocused as he slouched back in his throne.

Incensed, Sidious grabbed Plagueis with the Force and lifted him into the air by his throat. His long, gangly limbs hung limply by his sides as he didn't bother to attempt to extricate himself from Sidious' grasp. "Her powers… are unrivaled," he struggled to say. "You will lose."

"I cannot lose," Sidious barked.

Somehow, Plagueis managed to laugh – a horrible, guttural sound escaping his blue-tinged lips. "Your faith… is unfounded," he rasped. "Elegius will… be the one to rise. You… you will fail."

Sidious was unable to control himself. With an inhuman shriek, Sidious crushed Plagueis' traitorous throat and sent his master's dead body plummeting to the floor. The corpse collided with the base of his throne and fell to Sidious' feet, sprawled out gracelessly on the floor. Breathing heavily, Sidious prodded Plagueis' body tentatively with his foot to confirm that the ancient master was indeed finally dead.

He hadn't meant to kill him so soon, but he hadn't really needed him anyway. He knew all along who Elegius was, but he hadn't wanted to admit it. Now it was confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt: Shmi Skywalker had returned. This development threw a horrible wrench in his plans. While he suspected that he would be able to defeat Skywalker should it come to that, the threat she alone posed was trivial compared to the effect she would have on her plans at large. Her return had destroyed the fundamental axis on which his plans had previously revolved: the seduction of Anakin Skywalker to the dark side. Now that his mother had returned, he would never join him over her. Anakin would never be swayed to his side.

His plans would have to change entirely now. Anakin Skywalker could no longer be relied upon. Because of that, he would have to be eliminated along with the rest of the Jedi and his mother. For now, Sidious would be forced to fulfill his plan by himself. He knew ultimately that this would be impossible; while he was powerful, the extent of his ambitions required an apprentice, and a powerful one at that. Who could possibly fulfill the role to which Skywalker had previously been stenciled in?


	17. Ultimatum

_Coruscant_

"The Maker! Oh, Master Ani, how wonderful to see you again!"

Anakin blinked furiously as he looked away from his mother to see a gold-plated protocol droid rushing toward them from the opposite hallway.

"It is I, C-3P0," the droid announced proudly before the bewildered pair. "You probably didn't recognize me because of the gold plating!"

"Threepio?" Anakin said, his incredulity soaring to unprecedented heights as he stared back at his childhood creation with wide eyes.

"Threepio, leave us," Shmi instructed authoritatively. "I don't require your services right now."

Threepio turned to Shmi and Anakin could have sworn the droid looked disappointed at this command. Nonetheless, he bowed to her. "Of course, Mistress Shmi," he said before waddling away. Obi-Wan and Anakin watched the droid as he turned a corner and left the kitchen.

"He's an admirable creation, Ani, but I think you might have over-engineered him," Shmi said. Anakin spun his head to see her right eye sparkling with humor. It was thoroughly disquieting to see that her fiery left eye revealed no such ebullience, however. "He's absolutely irrepressible," she added with a laugh.

"What are you doing here?" Anakin asked stiffly, his anger at the sight of her serving to suppress his shock.

"I used to live here, you know," she said dryly.

"Yeah, well you don't anymore," Anakin said viciously. "So get out."

Shmi raised her eyebrows, evidently more surprised than she was offended by his rudeness. Pushing herself off the counter, she walked around the kitchen table toward them. Anakin and Obi-Wan both stiffened and took half steps back as she approached.

"Calm down, boys," she said, casually pushing a strand of silver hair out of her face as she continued to walk toward them slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Well isn't that reassuring," Obi-Wan said sarcastically.

"We still have unfinished business, you see," Shmi said, ignoring Obi-Wan's quip.

"We have no business with a murderer such as yourself," Obi-Wan said firmly.

"Murderer, shmurderer," Shmi said, breezily dismissing the accusation with a wave of her hand. "Get off your high bantha, Kenobi. I'm sure you've killed before."

"You are an enemy of the Order!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "You killed dozens of Jedi!"

"Indeed, I did," Shmi said darkly, the levity disappearing from her voice with jarring abruptness. Anakin held his breath as Shmi finally came to a stop a few feet in front of them. Reaching down, he wrapped his hands around the green lightsaber Obi-Wan had given him on Geonosis. Shmi's eyes darted down when she noticed this movement. "Where did you get that?" she asked, pointing to the lightsaber.

"It's a spare," Obi-Wan answered for him. "I gave it to him during the battle."

"That won't do," Shmi said, wrinkling her nose. With a flick of her wrist, the borrowed lightsaber zoomed away from Anakin's belt, tearing the leather loop in the process. Grabbing the hilt out of the air, Shmi inspected it with a dissatisfied frown. "My son can't be using a borrowed blade," she said.

"Give it back," Anakin said, stunned by how easily he had been disarmed.

"Ani, that's no way to speak to your mother," Shmi said sternly as she pocketed the lightsaber. "I would have thought your father would have taught you some manners." Anakin clenched his jaw at the mention of his father, and Shmi's flippancy seemed to enervate at the sight. Frowning slightly as she contemplated him, she turned around suddenly and picked up a wooden box off of the kitchen table. "Here," she said, offering the box to him. "This belongs to you."

Anakin hesitated as he looked down at the inconspicuous offering. Tentatively, he reached out and took it from his mother's outstretched hands. Grabbing the bottom of the box with his left hand, he pulled the lid off with his right, revealing a very familiar object ensconced on top of a velvet cushion.

"Your father's lightsaber," Shmi said when Anakin's eyes widened in surprise. "I found it in Dooku's ship on Geonosis. I'm sure Qui-Gon would have wanted you to have it." Anakin picked up the weapon and handed the box off to Obi-Wan. Curling his fingers around the hallowed weapon, Anakin felt his throat constrict with sorrow. The weapon exuded his father's presence so strongly through the Force, it felt as if he was standing there next him.

"I am sorry, Anakin," his mother said as he closed his eyes and held the hilt to his chest. "I did everything I could to save him."

Anakin shook his head and looked away from her. He didn't want to be having this conversation right now, especially not with her. She was the last person he wanted sympathy from. "Why are you here?" he asked, ashamed to hear his voice sound strained and garbled with emotion.

"I told you," Shmi said. "We have unfinished business."

"I disagree," Anakin said, still refusing to look her in the eye as he gingerly placed his father's lightsaber in the pocket inside his robes. "I decided not to join you. That decision is final."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter," Shmi said coldly.

Anakin turned sharply toward her. "You don't control me," he growled.

"No, but I am your mother," she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

"I fail to see why that should matter," he said tartly.

"Your beginning to sound like Kenobi," Shmi observed, her eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

"I'd rather be like Obi-Wan than be like you," Anakin shot back.

"That's not true at all," Shmi said at once.

"Oh yeah? How would you know? You haven't seen me in ten years! You don't know the first thing about me!"

Shmi faltered at this, her glowing eyes revealing a twinge of remorse. Having thoroughly unexpected this reaction, Anakin's virulence dissipated. "You're right, Ani," Shmi said upon taking a deep, recomposing breath. "And I am sorry for that. I have made a lot of mistakes."

"You can say that again," Anakin said bitingly.

"And I will," Shmi said. "You have to believe me when I say I am sorry. I am sorry for leaving you and I am so horribly sorry for not being able to save your father. But no amount of apologizing can rectify this. That's why I need you by my side. So we can right the wrongs which have been made."

Caught off guard by this heartfelt apology, Anakin was rendered momentarily speechless. "We don't doubt your sincerity, Shmi, we simply disagree with your methods," Obi-Wan said, interceding on Anakin's behalf. "You can't honestly expect Anakin to leave the Jedi Order for you, can you?"

"Yes, I can," Shmi said brusquely. "Anakin is not a blind devotee to the Order like you are, Kenobi. Isn't that right, Anakin?"

Feeling uncomfortable with this question, Anakin shied away from Obi-Wan and shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Um… no," he mumbled.

"That doesn't mean he's going to join you," Obi-Wan said.

Shmi shrugged and looked away from Obi-Wan to Anakin. "Yes, in fact it does," she said stubbornly. "I'm not leaving here until Anakin changes his mind." Anakin said nothing to this, disturbed yet somehow also gratified by his mother's insistence. For all that could be said about her, her dedication to him could not be questioned. Whether or not he wished to receive this dedication was still yet to be determined, however.

"You must be tired, Ani," Shmi said, her fierce, indomitable tone abruptly shifting to a more maternal and tender one. Aside from her glowing left eye, the mercuriality of her voice was perhaps the most frightening feature about her. Anakin was unable to get a read on her. One moment, she could seem no different than the mother he had remembered ten years ago. In the next, however, she could be threatening to kill you without a hint of compassion in her voice.

"Um… I guess," he said awkwardly.

"Let's sit down then, shall we?" Shmi suggested cordially.

In spite of himself, Anakin found himself nodding at once, earning him a dirty glare from Obi-Wan. Smiling at him, Shmi turned around and began walking out of the kitchen. "I'm assuming you're following me," she said when Anakin hesitated. When Anakin made to walk after her, Obi-Wan stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"Be careful, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered. "She is not to be trusted."

Anakin pursed his lips and wrenched his arm out of Obi-Wan's grasp. He could determine for himself whether or not she was trustworthy, thank you very much. His fear of what his mother had become was far from abated, but his hostility toward the notion of conversing with her had disappeared. Perhaps it was on account of Obi-Wan's general uselessness. In spite of this unexpected turn of events, his thoughts were not far from Padmé. He suspected they never would be until his dilemma was resolved. Perhaps if Obi-Wan and the Jedi couldn't help him, his mother could. Perhaps she was the person he needed to talk to.

But she's a psychopath! He had watched her murder countless Jedi in cold blood not three days ago! How could he pretend as if that hadn't happened? Wasn't it terribly hypocritical of him to condemn her actions yet also seek her advice and assistance?

Feeling conflicted, Anakin dragged his feet as he followed Shmi toward the patio. The compact, semi-circular room was by far the most grandiose part of Qui-Gon's apartment. A curved, retractable window separated the room from the Coruscant skyline, granting them a marvelous view of the never-ending city. The view was only enhanced further by the bright morning light which was unimpaired by clouds or pollution which afflicted the lower levels of the city.

Shmi had seated herself in the chair Anakin typically chose for himself. She leaned back casually in the drab green armchair with her feet elevated on the glass coffee table in the center of the patio. Anakin glanced ruefully at Obi-Wan before taking the only available seat across from Shmi.

"So," Shmi said as she interlaced her fingers in front of her mouth. "Tell me, Anakin. Have you made up your mind?"

"You haven't even made a case yet," Anakin said. "Why should I join you?"

"I take it the because–I'm–your–mother argument didn't sway you?" she asked sportively.

"Not at all," Anakin said bluntly.

"Well that's a shame," Shmi said. "I really thought that was going to work."

"Cut it with the games, Shmi," Obi-Wan said irritably from the doorway. "If you're not going to let us leave, at least tell us what you want from us."

"From you, nothing," Shmi said. "I fail to see why Qui-Gon was so fond of you, to be frank."

"I ask myself the same question of you," Obi-Wan said icily.

Shmi's expression grew stormy, clearly incensed by Obi-Wan's snappy comeback. Fearful on his friend's behalf, Anakin intervened. "What Obi-Wan means to say is that we just want to know what your plans are," he said hastily. "Why have you returned to Coruscant?"

"I am only here because of you, Ani," she said, her snarl directed toward Obi-Wan morphing into a smile as she turned to look at him.

"And why do you need me?" Anakin asked.

"Do I need a reason to want to be with my son?" she asked innocently.

"Yes," Anakin said at once.

"Fine," Shmi huffed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "I don't _really _need you, if I'm honest. I'm sure I can manage on my own. What I really want is to be able to protect you."

"Protect me? From what?" Anakin asked.

"Why, from Sidious of course," Shmi said as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye, curious to see his reaction to this. As expected, Obi-Wan was leaning forward a bit, eagerly anticipating the next question. "Do you know who Sidious is?" Anakin asked.

Shmi's eyes flashed. "Of course I do," she said. "But I won't tell you unless you decide to join me," she added impishly.

"But Mom! The Jedi need to know!"

"No, they do not," she said sternly. "They would ruin everything."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, in fact I do," she said. "They ruin everything they touch. There's a reason why your father is dead, and it's not because of Sidious. It's because of the Jedi."

"No, it's because of Dooku," Anakin protested feebly.

"Dooku was nothing more than a puppet operating on others' orders," Shmi said.

"Sidious' orders?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Perhaps, but not solely," Shmi said vaguely.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Anakin asked.

"Dooku is irrelevant," Shmi growled, waving off the questioning. "The only two actors who matter are me and Sidious. Everyone else is nothing but a pawn in our game."

Disturbed by this assessment, Anakin leaned back in his seat and chewed on his lower lip. "Is that what I am?" he asked. "A pawn as well?"

"You, my child, are the ultimate pawn," Shmi said. "From the moment he thought that he had conceived you, Sidious intended to use you."

Anakin gulped and looked away, suddenly feeling deeply uncomfortable. His father had told him the story of what Sidious had done to his mother. He had been extremely vague about the details, but Anakin had pieced things together as he got older. It was because of this that Anakin despised the Sith perhaps even more so than his Jedi peers.

"He intends to manipulate you and seduce you to the dark side," Shmi said.

"I would never turn to the dark side," Anakin said automatically.

"Oh, you would," Shmi said portentously. "Given the right circumstances, you would fall right over the precipice and into Sidious' lap."

"You're wrong!"

"You are weak, Anakin! Your mind is easily manipulatable." Anakin opened his mouth to object, but Shmi talked over him. "Sidious has already laid the groundwork for your descent," she said loudly. "By having his apprentice kill your father, Sidious has sowed the seeds of discontent between you and the Jedi Order. I can feel your frustration with them growing. It enfolds you like a shadow."

Unable to rebut this ominous observation, Anakin looked down at his lap. Shmi was entirely right; his frustrations with the Jedi had reached a boiling point. Even so, that didn't mean he should have to join forces with her! The Jedi were by far the lesser of two evils in this situation.

"How are you any better than Sidious?" Anakin asked. "You use the dark side just like he does."

"I use the darkness as a tool. It is merely an instrument in my arsenal. Sidious is the embodiment of the dark side. He is pure evil, plain and simple."

"That's not possible," Obi-Wan protested. "One cannot wield the dark side without being consumed by it. It is an unwieldable force."

"For simpletons like yourself, maybe," Shmi said, still looking directly at Anakin. "For more naturally gifted Force sensitives such as Anakin and myself, however, the potential of the darkness is enormous so long as we train ourselves to control it."

"How did you learn so much about the dark side?" Anakin asked.

"My old master taught me the ways of the Force," Shmi said vaguely.

"Windu?" Obi-Wan asked.

Shmi rolled her eyes. "Obviously not Windu," she said.

"Then who?"

"I'm not going to tell _you_," she said, shaking her head with disgust at the prospect of sharing information with Obi-Wan. "That is only for Anakin to know once he decides to join me."

"I'm not going to join you," Anakin said.

"Yes, you will," Shmi said obstinately. When Anakin frowned, Shmi made an irritated grumbling sound and stood up from her chair. Pacing toward the window, she placed her hands behind her back and peered out at the skyline. "The Jedi have failed you, Anakin," she said. "They don't deserve your loyalty."

"And neither do you," Anakin said.

"Perhaps not, but I will be redeemed in your eyes soon enough," she said. "In the meantime, you must choose between whom you trust more: me or the Jedi?"

Anakin faltered at this as he considered this question. When she framed it that way, the answer was obvious: of course he trusted his mother more. The issue he had with her wasn't a matter of trust, but a matter of ethics. While he didn't doubt her sincerity to him and to defeating Sidious, this didn't mean that he condoned her frankly barbaric methods.

"Your fear of me is misguided," Shmi said as if reading his thoughts. "It is Sidious who you should fear above all else."

"Why can't I be afraid of both of you?" Anakin asked.

"Because you have to choose one of us," she said. "Me or Sidious. There is no other path."

"And what if I choose the Jedi?"

"Then you will fall into Sidious' trap," she said. "I have foreseen it, my son. I have seen what will become of you."

Anakin's eyes widened at this foreboding statement. "What are you talking about?" he asked nervously.

Shmi turned around and stared at him intently, her heterochromatic eyes glinting in the bright morning light. "You will destroy everything and everyone you love," she said grimly. "You will be destroyed, transformed into a husk of a man with nothing but his own self-loathing to drive him. You will become a slave once more." Anakin felt himself shiver in fear at this prediction. It was all the more terrifying because although he didn't want to admit it, Anakin could recognize himself in that description. Had he already begun to become the man who his mother had foreseen? His father was gone and he had since pushed away the woman he loved. The only people left whom he cared about were in this room. Would he push them away as well? The plausibility of that path was deeply disconcerting to him.

"This fate can be avoided," Shmi continued. "I will do anything in my power to prevent it from coming to be, but in order to do that, I need you by my side. I need you to see that I am not your enemy but your greatest ally and most ardent supporter. Please, Anakin, I beg you to make the right choice."

Anakin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He could feel Obi-Wan's eyes boring into the side of his head from across the room, whereas Shmi's gaze had immobilized him with its intensity. "I… I need some time to think," he said finally.

Shmi narrowed her eyes and glanced momentarily at Obi-Wan. "Very well," she said. "In the meantime, I cannot allow either of you to leave. Especially you, Kenobi." Obi-Wan scowled at her, but offered no objection. He was smart enough to know that there was nothing he could do to escape this incarceration. "Your comlink," she demanded, holding her hand out to Obi-Wan. "Give it to me."

Obi-Wan's scowl deepened as he reached into his pocket and produced his comlink. As he tossed it to her, he said: "Don't think that you'll be able to get away with this. The Jedi will find you in time."

Shmi caught the device and contemplated Obi-Wan's stony expression silently for a moment. Suddenly, she crushed the comlink in her hand with savage force, causing both Obi-Wan and Anakin to flinch. "I thought it would be clear to you by now," she said. "The Jedi pose no threat to me." Opening her hand, she released the fine shards of metal and wiring which had once composed Obi-Wan's comlink to the floor. "I will be in my room," she said. "Take as much time as you need, Ani."

With that, Shmi strode out of the room, roughly pushing past Obi-Wan as she did so. Once she had gone, Anakin sagged forward in his seat and placed his face in his hands. Obi-Wan said nothing for a few moments as Anakin rubbed his eyes wearily. The weight of the galaxy seemed to be pressing down on his shoulders right now.

"Anakin, are you alright?" Obi-Wan finally asked.

Anakin exhaled loudly and dragged his hands down his face. "No," he said as he slouched backward. "Why is this happening to me, Obi-Wan?"

Is his peripheral vision, Anakin saw Obi-Wan walk over toward the seat which Shmi had since vacated. Sitting down, he clasped his hands together and leaned toward Anakin. "I can't make your decision for you, Anakin," he said. "But do remember this: you are not alone. Shmi makes it seem as if she's the only one in the galaxy who cares about you. That's a lie. I care about you and so do the Jedi."

"The Jedi don't care about me," Anakin said, shaking his head slowly. "They never have."

"Anakin –"

"It's the truth, Obi-Wan," Anakin said. "They're afraid of me. They've never respected me nor my father and it's because of them that my mother was forced to flee in the first place."

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean that you should turn your back on them," Obi-Wan said. "You heard what your mother said. She wants to train you in the dark side, Anakin!"

"I know," Anakin said heavily as he looked away out the window. "Could you just give me some time to think on my own?" he asked. "Please?" he added when Obi-Wan opened his mouth to object. Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment before acceding to his request.

"Very well," he said. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Once Obi-Wan had gone, Anakin took another deep breath and reached into his robes. Producing his father's lightsaber, Anakin turned the hilt over in his hands as he felt his lower lip tremble precariously. He had never before felt as lost as he did in that moment. Without his father's love and guidance, Anakin was directionless and discombobulated. Over the course of the past week, his entire life had been flipped upside down. Perhaps this was what his mother had felt like when she had become pregnant with him: isolated, afraid, and so very small.

His mother had placed him in an impossible situation. Surely she could see how this was tearing him apart? Why would she do something so cruel to him when she claimed that she still cared for him? This coupled with the agony he had inflicted upon himself by pushing Padmé away, and it was nothing short of a miracle that he could function at all. Without Qui-Gon, Padmé was the only person left whom he could truly believe had his best interests in heart. His mother wanted to use him, although she insisted the contrary, whereas Obi-Wan always placed the Order's values first over him. What he would give to be able to talk to Padmé now…

When he had decided to end things with her, he hadn't expected on seeing his mother again, or at least not for a long time. He had been operating on the assumption that he would be returning to the Order. Shmi's ultimatum had changed everything, however, including his rationalization for ending his relationship with Padmé. If Shmi could guarantee that he and Padmé could be together if he chose to join her, that would make his decision easy. Of course he would take that deal! Moral qualms aside, the prospect of being able to live freely with Padmé trumped anything the Jedi could offer him. But would Padmé want that? She was a senator! She wouldn't throw away her life to become a fugitive with him and his mother. But perhaps there was another way…

Standing up purposefully, Anakin made to attach his father's lightsaber to his belt, but found that the right side loop had been torn from when Shmi had summoned his borrowed lightsaber. Reaching across his body, he clipped the lightsaber to his left side. It went against his training to keep his lightsaber on his non-dominant sign, but perhaps that was symbolic in a way. After all, if his mother agreed to this condition, his tenuous loyalty to the Order and to its teachings would be shattered once and for all.

In spite of his tumultuous internal state, he attempted to convey a stolid demeanor as he walked to his father's bedroom. Anakin didn't allow himself to hesitate as he knocked, rapping his fist three times against the door. The moment his knuckles made contact with the wood, the door swung open. Blinking in surprise, Anakin took a few moments before walking into the room.

Seated on the edge of the bed, Shmi didn't look up when he approached. Her hands were rested on her lap, clutching a small object which Anakin was unable to identify.

"Mom?" he said tentatively.

Shmi closed her hands and looked up at him. "Dooku gave him this," she said bitterly, gripping whatever it was in her hands especially tightly as she stood up. "I always thought he was the most gracious, magnanimous man in the galaxy. I guess I was a fool for ever believing him."

Anakin said nothing to this, electing instead to extend his hand with his palm upward. Understanding the meaning of the gesture, Shmi reached out and dropped the object in his palm, her fingers trailing gently against his as she retracted her hand. Looking down, Anakin saw his father's wedding ring. It was a humble band, unencumbered by jewels or precious stones. He never would have guessed that the ostentatious Count Dooku would have been the one to bestow such a meek gift.

"Have you made a decision?" Shmi asked, watching his face closely as he analyzed the ring.

"Perhaps," he said, closing his hand and offering the ring back to her.

"You keep it," she said at once. "I still have mine, anyway." Anakin frowned, but nevertheless complied, pocketing the ring. "So what have you decided?" Shmi asked as Anakin looked up to meet her gaze.

"I have one condition," he said. Shmi quirked an eyebrow but didn't object. "Well, two actually," he added.

"Two?" Shmi repeated.

"Yes, two," Anakin confirmed, swallowing anxiously when Shmi crossed her arms irritably.

"Fine," she said begrudgingly. "What are they?"

Anakin licked his lips, deeply nervous for his mother's reaction. "I will join you on the condition that you allow me to get married," he said quickly, wincing upon delivering the final word.

"Married!?" Shmi exclaimed. "To whom?"

"To, uh… to Padmé," he murmured, his eyes darting downward so as to avoid Shmi's incredulous eyes. For her part, Shmi seemed too shocked to respond for a few moments, granting Anakin an opportunity to elaborate. "She proposed to me yesterday," he said.

"Anakin, you're too young!" she said, waving her hands at her sides agitatedly. "And you barely even know this woman!"

"I love her, Mom!" Anakin protested, regaining confidence in himself.

"Absolutely not," Shmi said, pointing a finger at him. "I will not allow you to repeat your father's mistakes."

At this, Anakin furrowed his brow. "You think he made a mistake?" he asked.

"I ruined his life, Anakin," Shmi said. "Don't let this woman ruin yours."

"Padmé won't ruin my life!" Anakin insisted. "She loves me!"

"And I loved Qui-Gon," Shmi said calmly. "That didn't prevent me from hurting him. Anakin, any relationship between you two is doomed to failure."

"That's not true," Anakin said stubbornly. "Just because your marriage was a disaster doesn't mean ours will be."

Shmi clenched her jaw, and for a moment Anakin feared that he had crossed a line. She regained her composure, however, balling her hands into fists and releasing them slowly so as to release tension. "You do realize this is impossible, don't you?" she said. "She is a senator. Her life is here in the capital. You won't be able to spend any time with her."

"That's why I have two conditions," Anakin said boldly. "If I join you, you will allow me to stay here on Coruscant."

Stunned by his audacity, Shmi's mouth fell open. "Why would I do that?" she asked.

"You said it yourself, you don't actually need my help," Anakin explained. "Why not have me actually be useful here on Coruscant?"

"And you would be useful how?" Shmi asked skeptically.

"As bait," Anakin said.

"Bait?" Shmi repeated, her brow furrowed in confusion. "How do you mean?"

"I will allow Sidious to collect me," Anakin said. "I will make it seem as if his plans are coming to fruition. That way I can discover the extent of his plans and help you defeat him when the time comes."

Shmi inclined her chin as she considered this proposal. "All the while, you would remain in the Order?" she asked.

"As a spy," Anakin said, beginning to grow excited. "I can tell you exactly what the Jedi and Sidious are planning. That way we can have an edge over both of them!"

Shmi considered him silently for a moment before grinning, her gaunt face stretching eerily as a glimmer of pride seemed to shine in her eyes. "My son the spy," she said.

"So what do you think?" Anakin asked.

"I don't know," Shmi said. "It's dangerous. If you get discovered, I will in all likelihood be too far away to save you."

"I won't need to be saved," Anakin said, frowning at the implication of his incompetence. "Nobody will know."

"Including Kenobi?" Shmi asked in a whisper.

Anakin faltered, having not considered this question. "Yes," he said after a moment's deliberation. "Including Obi-Wan."

Shmi narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing his face for any signs of deception. "Very well," she said eventually.

"You accept my conditions?" Anakin asked, surprised by how easy it had been to convince her.

"To the second one, not the first," Shmi said.

"But Mom –"

"I won't hear it, Anakin," Shmi said firmly. "You are not ready. Maybe after all this is over and you are both older, but not now. It would be a mistake to commit yourself to her when you barely even know each other."

"If you won't agree, then there's no deal," Anakin said defiantly. Shmi made a growling sound and looked away out the window. "You got married even though it was against the rules. What makes my situation any different?"

"I was twenty-seven, Anakin. Your father and I had known each other our whole lives! You're just nineteen and have barely known this woman for what? A combined two weeks over the span of a decade?"

"I don't need your permission, you know," Anakin said boldly. "I only asked you because I wanted to see if you were going to be more understanding than the Jedi would be. Since that clearly isn't the case, I guess we don't have anything left to discuss."

"Ani, wait," Shmi said when he made to turn around. "I'm not _totally _opposed –"

"Sure sounds like you are," Anakin mumbled.

"– But I am urging you to be a little more cautious, that's all," she said, ignoring his interjection. "Why don't you give it a few years? See if you really want to dedicate yourself to her."

Anakin pursed his lips as he considered this irksome yet undeniably valid point. He knew deep down that he did want to be with Padmé, but perhaps it would be best to appease his mother's demands with this compromise. After all, the prospect of marriage so young was daunting. "Fine," he said. "I see your point."

"Thank you," Shmi said with an exhale of relief.

"But I'm not going to break up with her just because you don't like her," he added.

"Who said I didn't like her?" Shmi asked innocently.

"I'm not blind, Mom" Anakin said. "Nor deaf for that matter. You clearly have a grudge against her."

"Okay, fine, I do," Shmi said, holding up her hands in surrender. "What can I say? I don't like politicians."

"That's what Obi-Wan would say," Anakin said.

"Well as much as it pains me to admit it, he has a point," Shmi said. "Speaking of which, how are we going to dispose of him?"

"What!?" Anakin exclaimed.

"Calm down, I don't mean to kill him," Shmi said with a wave of her hand. "We need to assure that he doesn't blab to the Council, however. I can't risk my identity being revealed to them."

"Oh," Anakin said in a whisper, suddenly remembering that Obi-Wan was still in the kitchen. "You don't have any ideas?"

"None whatsoever," Shmi admitted, sounding remarkably blasé about the matter. "Are you sure you'd object to me killing him?"

"Yes!" Anakin said at once. "He's my friend!"

"But he's insufferable!" Shmi groaned. "Ugh, fine," she said when Anakin crossed his arms disapprovingly. "I won't kill him, okay?"

Placated, Anakin glanced behind him toward the hallway. "Are you sure he can't be an ally somehow?" he asked.

"Absolutely not," Shmi said. "He's an unwavering dogmatist."

"That's not entirely true," Anakin said, recalling his earlier conversation with Obi-Wan.

Shmi raised an eyebrow, clearly dubious. "Please, do enlighten me," she said with a tilt of her head.

"He's been in love before," Anakin explained. "Dad told me all about it."

"Who could ever love him?" Shmi asked, wrinkling her nose at the concept.

"Her name was Satine," Anakin said, choosing to disregard this rude question.

Shmi's dismissive eyes suddenly widened. "Satine Kryze?" she asked.

"Uh… I don't know," Anakin said, bemused by her reaction.

"The Duchess of Mandalore?"

"Er… maybe?" Anakin said, recalling the specifics of what Qui-Gon had told him. "That sounds like it could be right. Dad said they had a tryst together when he and Obi-Wan were assigned to protect her. Why do you ask?"

Shmi didn't answer him. Turning away, she began pacing slowly as she stroked her chin pensively. Anakin watched her for a moment, waiting for her to explain. "That could work," she said finally.

"What could work?" Anakin asked.

"You think she still cares about her?" Shmi asked.

"I think so, he got super tense when I asked him about it," Anakin said.

"Good, good," Shmi said absently. She continued staring off blankly for a few moments before returning her attention fully to him. "Follow me," she said curtly. Surprised by the abruptness of her departure, Anakin scampered after her out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. Turning the corner, Anakin saw Obi-Wan look up when he and Shmi walked in, a bored expression on his face as he leaned back in a chair at the kitchen table.

"Anakin has made his decision," Shmi announced with a triumphant smirk.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin and sighed. "Let me guess, you decided to join her?" he asked impassively. "Just great," he added when Anakin nodded abashedly.

"In spite of the fact that we both detest each other, I am going to offer you a choice," Shmi said, her hands placed authoritatively on her hips.

"A choice?" Obi-Wan asked. "You mean between a pill or a rope?"

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin exclaimed, shocked by this droll attempt at humor.

"I know you can't let me live," Obi-Wan said, sitting upright in his chair. "You can't let me inform the Council of your treachery."

"Very true," Shmi said. "Unfortunately, Anakin won't let me kill you, nor will he allow you to kill yourself, for that matter. For that reason, I am going to offer you the option to join us."

Obi-Wan snorted in disbelief. "You can't be serious?" he said. "You know there's no way that's going to happen."

"That's what I believe, but Anakin seems to be under the delusion that you do have a modicum of humanity within yourself somewhere, so we'll see," Shmi said snappily.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Obi-Wan asked, indignant.

"I am going to tell you everything, Kenobi," Shmi said. "When I am done, I will have no choice but to kill you if you still refuse to join us. Do you agree to this term?"

"No!" Anakin said.

"Sure," Obi-Wan said with an insouciant shrug.

"Excellent," Shmi said. "Anakin, why don't you sit down as well. This is going to take a while."

Anakin bit his lower lip nervously, glancing between Shmi and Obi-Wan. He didn't want his mother to kill his best friend. That really would be a horrific capper to what had undeniably been the worst week of his life. He could only hope that Obi-Wan would see reason. Upon taking a seat opposite Obi-Wan at the table, Shmi began to speak.

"Ten years ago, I reluctantly pledged myself to a man by the name of Plagueis," she said, her eyes out of focus as she recounted. "Whether or not that was a mistake is a conversation for another time. Under Plagueis' teachings, I not only learned how to wield both the light and the dark sides of the Force, but I learned about the millennium-long plan devised by the Sith to regain control over the galaxy."

"Who is this Plagueis?" Obi-Wan asked. "And why does he know so much about the Sith?"

"He used to be one," Shmi explained.

"Used to be?" Anakin asked incredulously. "How can you stop being a Sith Lord?"

"His student attempted to kill him in his sleep," Shmi said. "He survived, but only barely. He became disenchanted with the ways of the Sith much like you have become disenchanted with the ways of the Jedi. He sought to emancipate himself from the confines of the respective Sith and Jedi religions and to sought ultimate control over both sides of the Force."

"There is only one side of the Force," Obi-Wan said smartly. "The dark side is nothing more than a perversion of the light."

"Perhaps," Shmi said. "But perhaps not. You see, Plagueis was far too weak after the attempt on his life to be able to fully pursue this ambition. Because of that, he sought another student."

"You?" Anakin asked.

Shmi nodded. "He enlisted the support of another disillusioned Jedi to find me," she said. "Count Dooku."

"Dooku?" Obi-Wan repeated. "But I thought he was Sidious' apprentice?"

"He was," Shmi said. "But he was also in the employ of Plagueis secretly for many years before he ever became Sidious' apprentice. Ten years ago, Qui-Gon arrived on Tatooine where he discovered Anakin and myself. His unexpected arrival forced my hand. I had to get him off the planet so that he didn't draw attention to us. Because of that, I attempted to rig the podrace in Anakin's favor."

"You did what!?" Anakin said loudly.

"Don't worry, Ani, you still won on your own accord," Shmi reassured him. "I only helped eliminate some of the competition for you." Anakin gaped at her, stunned by this admission. She had interfered in the race? How? She had been in the viewer's box the whole time, or so he thought. "In order to do that, I had to use the Force for the first time in ten years. As a consequence, I exposed myself to both Plagueis and to Sidious who sent their respective apprentices to find me."

"This doesn't make any sense," Obi-Wan said, holding his hand up. "Master Windu said he found you alone with Dooku. If he wasn't Sidious' apprentice, who was?"

"A zabrak by the name of Maul," Shmi said. "He and I dueled, but I was far too weak and out of shape to defeat him. Maul would have killed me had Dooku not arrived in time."

"What happened to Maul?" Anakin asked.

Shmi smiled devilishly, clearly having hoped for this question. "He survived," she said. "And this is the part where I convince you to join me, Obi-Wan."

"Oh yeah? Why is that?" Obi-Wan asked skeptically.

"Maul fled his former master Sidious and disappeared for many years. Plagueis and Dooku kept track of him for fear that he would someday return to Sidious' side. He didn't, however. Instead, he returned to his mother on Dathomir."

"I fail to see why this is relevant to me," Obi-Wan said.

"Maul has been amassing an army with his mother's support," Shmi said.

"An army?" Anakin asked. "What for?"

"I expect ultimately to confront Sidious," Shmi said. "For now, however, he is building his strength and waiting for the time to strike. With the outbreak of war between the Republic and Confederacy seeming inevitable, Maul will likely seek action sooner rather than later."

"What type of action?" Anakin asked.

"He intends to establish himself on a planet more central to the impending conflict yet not too far away from his current seat of power on Dathomir," Shmi said. "It seems most likely that he will seek to gain control over Mandalore."

"How do you know all this?" Obi-Wan asked, suddenly sounding far more invested in the conversation.

"I found details of Dooku's reconnaissance of Dathomir and of Maul's activities on his ship back on Geonosis," Shmi said. "He has a spy within Maul's inner circle by the name of Asajj Ventress. Or at least he did. Based on the severing of communication between the two, I assume they had a falling out."

"So what you're saying is Maul could be planning to attack Mandalore as we speak?" Obi-Wan asked in a high voice.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Shmi said. "Does that concern you, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and glanced over at Anakin. "The Jedi must be informed," he said.

"The Jedi will be unable to assist now that the war has begun," Shmi said. "And besides, few Jedi would be able to pose much of a threat to Maul and his horde. The best hope for Mandalore is sitting in this room right now."

"Why would you help them?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I intend to turn Maul into an ally, or at least a subservient," Shmi said. "If I am to do that, however, I cannot allow him to get too powerful. I will not allow his plans to establish a base on Mandalore come to fruition. That being said, I have no vested interest in the Duchess nor in her government. Should you choose to join me, however, I will be more willing to ensure her safety."

Appalled by this, Obi-Wan stood up abruptly. "Are you trying to blackmail me?" he asked.

"From a certain point of view, yes," Shmi said, unfazed to Obi-Wan's outrage. "I am merely trying to manipulate you, Obi-Wan. At least I am being honest about it unlike Sidious or the Jedi."

"The Jedi don't manipulate," Obi-Wan said at once.

"The institution which steals Force-sensitive babies from their mothers to indoctrinate them in an ancient religion isn't manipulative?" Shmi asked, arching her eyebrows. "Obi-Wan, you must be even more brainwashed than I thought if you honestly believe that."

Visibly conflicted, Obi-Wan looked away from Shmi toward the floor. "How do I know you're not making all of this up?" he asked.

"Then I'd must have a remarkably vivid imagination to come up with such a specific tale," Shmi said dryly. "As I said, Kenobi, you do not interest me. Anakin is the one who cares so much about you."

"Why are you doing this, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, turning to him with pleading eyes. "Just a day ago you were terrified of her. Now you're joining forces with her?"

Feeling uncomfortable with this question, Anakin quickly looked away. He didn't have an easy answer for Obi-Wan, in large part because he himself didn't know why he had chosen Shmi over the Jedi. It was because an agglomeration of factors, none of which were easily explainable. Perhaps underlying all of these rationalizations, however, was the undeniable truth that Anakin desperately wanted to be loved. Siding with his mother would satiate his innate desire for love – whether it be romantic with Padmé or maternal with Shmi – whereas the Jedi could no longer provide that for him now that his father was gone.

"Anakin's decision is his own," Shmi said on his behalf. "But I do beseech you to consider the benefits of siding with me."

"Benefits?" Obi-Wan scoffed derisively. "You're blackmailing me!"

"The Jedi stand in the way of the two things which you desire most: defeating the Sith and protecting the woman you love." Obi-Wan stared at her with wide, incredulous eyes. It seemed as if he wanted to object, but was unable to, rendered speechless by what Anakin guessed was a deeply accurate analysis. "I can provide you with both," Shmi continued. "With your assistance, I will ensure the Duchess' safety and thwart Sidious' plans for galactic domination."

"What would my assistance entail?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Predominately your silence," Shmi said. "I need you to promise not to tell the Order about any of this." Looking slightly pale, Obi-Wan fell back down to his seat and began running his hands through his hair. "I know you are capable of keeping secrets, Kenobi," Shmi said, looking down at him with her arms crossed in front of her. "You kept Qui-Gon's secret for ten years. If you won't do this for yourself, do it for him."

"Qui-Gon would never endorse your methods," Obi-Wan said.

Shmi shrugged and walked away, her robes brushing silently against the polished floor. "Perhaps not," she conceded. "But even so, he would never have betrayed me to the Jedi."

Silence reigned as Obi-Wan stared at the back of Shmi's head with a strained expression. Anakin waited with bated breath, hoping against hope that Obi-Wan would make the right decision. He couldn't bear to lose Obi-Wan as well.

"Your decision, Kenobi," Shmi said, turning around to face him once more. "I need it."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked down at his hands which were pressed firmly against his knees, his fingernails digging through the fabric and into his flesh. "If I do this, can you guarantee to me that Satine's life will be spared?" he asked.

"I can," Shmi said with a nod.

"And what about the Jedi? Will you promise not to fight them unless you deem it entirely necessary?"

Shmi frowned at this and didn't answer, clearly unwilling to commit herself to this. "The Jedi don't deserve to die," Anakin said, reinserting himself back into the conversation. "They aren't the enemy here. Sidious is."

"You don't blame Windu for your father's death?" Shmi asked him, her eyes stormy.

"No, I don't," Anakin said, not entirely candidly. He did in fact harbor ill feelings toward Windu and toward the Council at large for a multitude of reasons, but even so he didn't wish death upon them like Shmi did. That was far too extreme for him.

"I will not lie on your behalf to my brothers and sisters if you do not assure me that you will not seek their destruction like Sidious does," Obi-Wan said, raising his chin defiantly.

"Please, Mom," Anakin implored. "Listen to him."

Shmi glanced at him briefly, her jaw clenched and her face taut as she deliberated. Finally, she spoke. "I cannot guarantee that things won't change, but for now I will accept your request, Kenobi," she said.

Obi-Wan looked far from satisfied by this assurance, but it seemed he knew better than to push further on the issue. "Very well," he said stiffly. "It's a deal."


	18. The Rematch

_Coruscant_

Early the next morning, Anakin and Obi-Wan departed from Qui-Gon's apartment for the Jedi Temple. Shmi had left during the night for Mandalore having promised that she would be in contact with them soon. Anakin drove the speeder as Obi-Wan struggled mightily with his moral conscience. In spite of the cool wind whipping their faces, his face had been coated in a sheen of sweat during the drive, and he was still sweating profusely by the time they reached the Temple.

"Calm down, would you?" Anakin told him. "It'll be fine."

"I don't know if I can do this, Anakin," Obi-Wan muttered to him as they entered the grandiose structure and began walking up a set of broad, red-carpeted stairs.

"What do you mean?" Anakin hissed.

"I've never lied to the Council before," Obi-Wan said, his shaky hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of his sleeve as they made a turn at the top of the stairs.

"You lied for me and Qui-Gon in the past," Anakin pointed out.

"Not really," Obi-Wan said. "I never had to lie because nobody ever asked me about it. There's a difference between withholding information and outright lying."

"Then let me do the talking, how about?" Anakin suggested, exasperated with Obi-Wan's anxiety.

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, evidently no longer able to speak. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Anakin couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend's behavior. Fortunately, Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice this, clearly too wrapped up in his own thoughts to pay much attention to Anakin.

Upon arriving at the doors leading to the Council chamber, Anakin took a deep breath to compose himself. "Ready?" he asked to Obi-Wan.

"No," he said honestly.

"Great, let's do this."

Striding forth with feigned confidence, the door slid open before him revealing the Council seated on their cushioned chairs awaiting them. Maintaining his façade of poise, Anakin did not hesitate as he walked into the center of the circular room and came to a stop, his hands rested in front of him in an instinctively defensive posture. Obi-Wan stood to his left, his eyes fixated on the floor.

"Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker, welcome," Mace Windu began formally. As Anakin turned his attention to the venerable Jedi Master, his eyes drifted to his right hand. Noticing Anakin's gaze, Windu held his hand up. It was mechanical, made of a gold-infused metallic material. Anakin had seen Windu clutching his arm during the battle, but he hadn't known the extent of his injury. It seemed Shmi had sliced his right hand clean off, a feat all the more impressive considering that Windu was considered as perhaps the greatest duelist in the Order, comparable or possibly even exceeding the skills of Yoda himself.

"My wound, while painful, is nothing compared to the wound we all feel in the wake of the battle on Geonosis," he stated somberly, curling his mechanical fingers languidly before setting his golden hand aside on the armrest. "Dozens of fellow Knights perished on that battle field at the hands of a mysterious Sith operating under the moniker Darth Elegius." He paused, his dark eyes oscillating between Obi-Wan and Anakin as he scrutinized them. "Can you provide us with any insights into the identity of this Sith?"

"No," Anakin said, perhaps too quickly. "We didn't get a good look at… at him."

Windu arched an eyebrow at this comment. "You presume the Sith is a man?" he asked.

"Er… I don't know," Anakin said lamely.

"You were nearest the Sith during the battle, were you not?" Windu asked.

"I was, yes," Anakin said, beginning to feel as if he were on trial with Windu being the prosecutor and the rest of the Council being the jury.

"So you must have heard the Sith's voice at least as clearly as I did," Windu said.

"I heard their voice, yes," Anakin said, shifting his feet nervously under his robes.

"It was distinctly female, was it not?"

"I, uh… I can't be sure of that," Anakin stammered.

Windu narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Master Kenobi, what say you?" he asked, turning his gaze to Obi-Wan who was still staring at the floor. Obi-Wan mumbled something unintelligible to his feet, prompting Anakin to elbow him in the ribs.

"I didn't hear anything!" he exclaimed loudly, his panicked eyes darting up to meet Windu's for a fraction of a second before fleeing once again in fright. He cleared his throat awkwardly, all the while tapping his foot rapidly against the floor. "I mean, Anakin was closer to her – him! I mean, him! Or her. It could have been a her. I have no idea. No idea whatsoever."

Windu stared at Obi-Wan with a bemused expression for a few moments. Evidently deciding that Obi-Wan was thoroughly useless, Windu returned his attention to Anakin. "This Council is operating under the assumption that Elegius is a woman," he said. "Other than that, we haven't much information to go on. Are you entirely sure you don't have any information for us?"

Anakin licked his lips and looked away, doing his best to appear as if he was deep in thought. "I am sorry, Masters," he said after several long moments of faux contemplation. "She did not reveal anything to us."

Windu leaned forward and glanced subtly at Yoda to his right. "Then why was she there at all?" Windu asked, his mechanical digits interlaced fluidly with his fleshed fingers in front of his mouth.

"I assume to rescue Master Jinn," Anakin said, a hint of bitterness seeping into his voice.

"But why?" Windu asked.

"Maybe because she valued him more than this Council did," Anakin was unable to stop himself from saying. At once, he regretted saying something so inflammatory. The last thing he needed was additional scrutiny from the Council and from Windu in particular.

Windu's eyes narrowed further still so that his eyes were like slits. Leaning back, he brought his hands back to his sides and rested them calmly against the armrests of his chair. For nearly a full minute, Windu contemplated Anakin with uncanny intensity, not blinking once as he scrutinized Anakin's countenance and probed his conscience through the Force.

"I sense great anger in you, Skywalker," he said finally.

"Resent this Council, do you?" Yoda asked, pointing a stubby finger at him.

"No, Master –"

"You blame us for Master Jinn's death," Ki-Adi Mundi interjected. "Even when it was by Dooku's blade that he perished."

Anakin glanced at the Cerean Master and bit his tongue to prevent himself from further affirming their suspicions of his dissonance with them. "What is the point of this interrogation?" he asked instead, turning back to Windu.

Windu stared at him for several excruciatingly long seconds, his expression conveying his supreme distrust and contempt for Anakin. "If you may remember, this Council only admitted you into this Order upon the insistence of Master Jinn," he said, breaking the tense silence. "Whereas Master Jinn was convinced that you were the Chosen One, this Council was far from concordant with your former master. In light of your persistent intransigence of late, this Council's qualms about the nature of your admittance in the Order have been revived."

"Troubling, your discontentment with the Council is," Yoda added.

"As a consequence, we will not allow you to face the trials until you demonstrate that you are capable of obedience toward this Council's decisions and mandates," Windu concluded.

"That's preposterous!"

Anakin swiveled his head to see that Obi-Wan had broken out of his nerves-induced stupor and was flushed red with indignation. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, Obi-Wan was staring at Windu furiously.

"Do you disagree, Master Kenobi?" Windu asked smoothly, a disapproving frown etched across his lips.

"Of course I do!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "Anakin is perhaps the most accomplished and gifted Padawan in the history of this Order! It would be asinine to refuse him admittance as a Knight solely because of a difference of opinion!"

"Difference of opinion does not adequately describe the severity of this situation," Windu said coldly. "We are at war, Master Kenobi. The Council's word must always be treated as sacrosanct, especially in trying times such as these. Skywalker has proven time and time again that he is incapable of this. Therefore, it is entirely within the right of the Council to refuse him this promotion."

Obi-Wan bit down on his tongue, clearly struggling to prevent himself from offering a retort. Anakin had never seen Obi-Wan look this irate, and never before had he thought it even possible that he would oppose the will of the Council so blatantly as he was doing now. Perhaps Qui-Gon's death had indeed caused him to become disillusioned with the Council in spite of his insistences to the contrary. Or perhaps this was merely a manifestation of his incipient rebelliousness which had been inspired by his decision not to inform the Council about Shmi and Anakin's plotting. Either way, it was endearing for Anakin to see Obi-Wan get so riled up on his behalf.

"Anakin, until you can prove yourself to us, we will not allow you to face the trials," Windu reiterated, returning his attention to Anakin. "In the meantime, you will need a new master."

"I will take Anakin as my Padawan," Obi-Wan said at once, his face still red but his voice no longer doused with fury as it had been moments before.

Windu frowned. It was clear he was not entirely supportive of this arrangement, but nonetheless he offered no objection. "Very well," he said. "It is settled. You may be excused."

Feeling a great surge of relief at these words, Anakin bowed deeply before walking side by side with Obi-Wan out of the Council chamber. Obi-Wan and Anakin collectively exhaled as they practically ran down the hallway once the door closed behind them.

"That went remarkably well," Obi-Wan commented once they were far enough away.

"Apart from your outburst, I'd say so," Anakin said with a smirk.

"Well forgive me for trying to look out for you," Obi-Wan said, the intended sarcasm dulled by the smile on his lips.

"Thank you, Master," Anakin said facetiously.

"Please don't call me that unless we're in public," Obi-Wan said with a groan as they walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall. "It sounds weird."

"I agree," Anakin said readily. While it had been uncomfortable calling his father 'Master' which he had to do whenever they were in public, he knew that Qui-Gon was the only person who he would willingly designate that title to. Obi-Wan may technically be his master now, but that didn't mean he had to call him that.

"Well, what shall we do with the rest of the day?" Obi-Wan asked when they stepped inside the elevator and Anakin pressed the button. "I bet this is some of the last free time we will have in a long while."

"I, er… I have to go to the Senate," Anakin said as they began descending. Obi-Wan glanced at him while Anakin maintained his gaze steadfastly at the door in front of him.

"Whatever for?" Obi-Wan asked, although the inclination of his voice indicated that he had a good idea what Anakin was talking about.

"I need to make things right," Anakin said.

"Anakin, I meant what I said," Obi-Wan said seriously, the previous levity of the situation entirely gone by this point. "You are making a grave mistake."

Anakin shook his head as the elevator came to a stop. "Are you sure it's not you who made the mistake?" he asked. With that, Anakin stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened before him, leaving a conflicted Obi-Wan in his wake.

* * *

Upon consulting an exceedingly complex map of the Senate complex, Anakin finally found Padmé's office and went rushing toward the stairs. He hadn't thought much of it until this point, but it suddenly dawned upon him that convincing her of his sincerity was going to be difficult. Although he would certainly like to, he knew he couldn't tell Padmé anything about what had happened in the past day. She could not know of his collaboration with Shmi.

Deciding that he would simply have to improvise, Anakin reached the fifth floor and began jogging down the hallway, reading the name tags on every door as he searched for Padmé's office. He hoped she would be here. It would be hard to explain himself to whomever was in the office if Padmé wasn't in yet.

He skidded to a stop when he finally found her office, his boots sliding a bit on the slick floor, and for a single moment he thought he was going to fall over. That would have been humiliating. Fortunately, he regained his footing and placed his hand against the wall to stabilize himself. He was about to place his hand on the door handle to open the door when it swung open to reveal the intimidating form of Padmé's head of security, Captain Typho. Anakin jumped back and held up his hands when Typho pulled his blaster from his holster.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly.

Anakin blinked a few times, staring at the blaster pointed at his chest. "I, um… I wanted to see if Pad… if the Senator made it back alright," he stammered.

"She did," Typho said shortly as he lowered the blaster.

"Oh," Anakin said. "That's, er… that's good news."

Typho narrowed his one eye at Anakin. "Is there something else you wanted?" he asked after an awkward silence.

Anakin cleared his throat, stalling for time as he formulated a plan. He briefly contemplated trying a Jedi mind trick on Typho, but he was confident that this wouldn't work on a man as singularly minded as Typho was. "Would it be possible for me to see the Senator?" he said instead. "The, er… the Council would like confirmation that she is safe."

"Do you doubt me?" Typho asked lowly.

"Not at all!" Anakin said quickly. "But I have my orders," he fibbed, puffing out his chest importantly.

Typho looked away as he returned his blaster to his holster. "Fine," he grumbled begrudgingly. "Follow me."

Exhaling in relief, Anakin followed Typho into the senatorial office. Typho led him down a short, blue-carpeted hallway toward an oval-shaped reception area. As Typho stepped aside, Anakin saw Padmé at once, dressed in one of her ornate and devilishly complicated senatorial gowns. She was standing by a window talking to a group of six other senators who were seated on a pair of couches. When Typho and Anakin walked in, seven heads turned to look at them. When she saw him, Padmé's eyes widened in surprise for a fraction of a second before narrowing in contempt.

"Why are you here?" she asked him bitingly.

Wide-eyed, Anakin was more intimidated by Padmé's glare than he had been by Typho's blaster. "Skywalker wanted to confirm that you returned to Coruscant safely, my lady," Typho said.

"I did just fine, thank you," Padmé said curtly. "But as you see, I am in the middle of –"

"Can we talk?" Anakin blurted out. "About the, um… about the proposition?" Padmé's nostrils flared as her already stormy expression turned fiery. "It will only take a minute," he added hastily, his voice sounding unnaturally high with fear.

Padmé glanced at her senatorial colleagues for a moment before returning her attention to him. "Fine," she spat. "Come with me."

"My lady, I –"

"I'll be fine, Captain," Padmé assured her head of security. "This won't take long at all. Right, Anakin?"

"Right," Anakin affirmed quickly.

With one last contemptuous scowl, Padmé spun around and marched out of the reception area. Anakin glanced nervously at Typho before hurrying after her into her personal office. Closing the door behind him, Anakin was startled when he turned around to find Padmé pointing a finger at his throat.

"This is entirely unprofessional, Anakin," she said in an agitated whisper. "You can't just trounce into my office whenever you please."

"I know, I know!" Anakin said hurriedly, his hands held up at his sides. "I just really needed to talk to you."

Padmé narrowed her eyes and lowered her accusative finger. She glared at him a moment longer before turning around and walking toward the window. With the press of a button, shades descended abruptly. Snapping her fingers, a light turned on as she marched over toward her desk and sat down. Anakin blinked a few times, impressed and somewhat intimidated by this expedient display. It was clear that this wasn't her first secret meeting held in this office.

"Well?" she said when Anakin stared at her silently. "Go on."

Anakin opened his mouth to speak yet paused, feeling supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Uh… do you think you could, er… stand up, maybe?"

Padmé's eyebrows shot upward in indignation. Nobody ever told a senator not to be seated. "Excuse me?" she asked ominously.

Anakin gulped nervously as he tapped his foot rapidly against the floor. "This just feels like an interview rather than what it should be," he said, pushing past his discomfort.

"And what should it be?" Padmé asked, still seated in defiance.

"An apology," Anakin said at once.

Unimpressed, Padmé leaned back in her chair and pressed her fingers together in front of her chin. Squirming slightly under her scrutiny, Anakin felt perspiration developing on his forehead in spite of the chill of the air conditioned room.

"You had your chance, Anakin," she said coldly. "You rejected me."

Anakin cringed when he heard the hurt in her voice. Pursing his lips, Anakin considered her expression for a moment before suddenly walking around the desk toward her. Surprised, Padmé recoiled as she tried to get away from him, but Anakin was too quick for her as he got down to his knees and grabbed her rolling chair by the armrests.

"Let me go," she growled.

"Well you refused to stand up, so I can't do this any other way," Anakin said a bit tartly.

"Do what?" Padmé asked.

"Tell you how sorry I am," Anakin said as candidly as he was able. "I was an idiot. I never should have pushed you away." Padmé stared at him for a moment, seemingly trying to gauge his sincerity as her eyes bored into his own. "What I'm trying to say," Anakin said as he released the armrests and boldly placed his right hand on Padmé's knee. "Is that I want a second chance."

"A second chance at what?" Padmé asked bitingly.

"To tell the woman I love that I want to be with her," Anakin said, his voice sounding remarkably suave in spite of his nervousness.

"Are you proposing to me?" she asked, her austere expression unaltered by his confession.

Anakin froze. Was he proposing? He hadn't intended on doing that given that his mother had expressly refused to condone him doing such a thing. What was he going to tell Padmé, though? It would be terribly impudent for him to tell her that they couldn't get married when she wasn't allowed to know the full context. He wouldn't allow himself to hurt her once again.

"Yes," he said therefore. "I am asking you to marry me."

Padmé frowned. "But where's the ring?" she asked.

Anakin gaped at her, totally caught off guard by this question. "You didn't have a ring when you proposed!" he pointed out indignantly.

Padmé crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. "That's a false equivalency," she said. "My proposal was spontaneous. You had time to think about it." Nonplussed, Anakin sputtered incoherently as Padmé's face finally broke out into a radiant smile. "I'm messing with you," she told him, placing her hand atop his and giving it a reassuring pat.

Anakin exhaled loudly and allowed himself to laugh, albeit a bit tentatively. "So do you accept?" he asked.

"On one condition," Padmé said seriously, the levity disappearing as she held up a finger to his face. "I will marry you if you promise never to betray me ever again. Do you understand?" Without hesitation, Anakin nodded vigorously. "You broke my heart, Anakin. I never want to feel that way again."

"And you won't," Anakin assured her. "I swear on my life, Padmé. I won't ever hurt you again." Padmé smiled sadly at him as she lowered her finger and cupped his cheek with her left hand. Relishing the soft, angelic touch, Anakin reciprocated her smile, although not without a dose of comparable melancholy. While he was inordinately happy that Padmé had accepted him back, he couldn't help but think of the obstacles to their illicit marriage. Now his mother as well as the Jedi would be added to the list of people he had to deceive. He shivered at the thought of her finding out. What would she do if that happened? Force him to get a divorce? Or would she seek retribution on Padmé? He couldn't allow her to do either of those things.

Anakin extended his hands to Padmé. As she took them, he stood up and pulled her up out of the chair with him. Leaning down, he kissed her chastely on the lips, determined not to get carried away lest Typho get suspicious about what was taking so long. As he separated from her, however, an idea struck him.

"Wait a minute, I do have a ring!" he said excitedly.

"You do?" Padmé said, arching an eyebrow dubiously.

Fishing in his right pocket, Anakin produced his father's humble wedding band. "Look!" he said. "It's my father's." Anakin made to offer it to her, but Padmé retracted her hand quickly.

"I couldn't take that," she said. "Besides, you know I can't wear it."

"I know, but I want you to have it," Anakin said. "At least this way our engagement feels more… real."

"I don't know, it still feels pretty surreal to me," Padmé quipped.

Anakin snorted in agreement. "Will you take it?" he asked.

"Alright, but I want my own secret engagement ring at some point," Padmé said with a smile as she accepted the ring. Reaching down the front of her dress, Padmé produced a small locket from around her neck which she opened and placed the ring inside. "This should always belong to your father, not to me," she said.

"I agree," Anakin said, dreading the prospect of having to find a ring suitable to Padmé's luxuriant tastes.

Padmé tucked the locket back down her dress and looked up at him. "I knew you'd come back to me," she said with a slight smirk.

"Did you now?" Anakin asked skeptically.

"Okay, I didn't know for sure," she amended, reaching up and rubbing his arms tenderly. "But I hoped you would."

"Well you don't have to be afraid of me ever leaving you again," Anakin said. "I'll never repeat that mistake."

"That's good, Ani, but I do need you to leave now," she said.

"Huh?" Anakin asked.

Padmé gave him a pointed look. "This is going to look rather scandalous to my colleagues, don't you think?" she said. "Holding a secret meeting with a handsome Jedi in my personal office? They might begin to talk."

"Well it _is _rather scandalous," Anakin said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Anakin?"

"Hmm?"

"Get out of my office."

"Okay, fine," Anakin said with a huff.

"And don't look so happy when you leave," Padmé said with a smile.

"That might be difficult," Anakin said as he walked toward the door. "Because I've never been happier in my entire life."

Padmé's smile broadened. "Why don't you come by my apartment this afternoon," she suggested suddenly, her cheeks flushing a furious red. "To talk," she added hastily. "About… things."

"Um… sure," Anakin stammered, his own face burning red as well at this proposition.

Padmé bit her lower lip and glanced away from him awkwardly. "Go on," she shooed, flicking her hand toward him. "Time to go."

"Right," Anakin said, forcing himself to look away from her as he rotated the door handle.

"Wipe that smile off your face!" she demanded in a hiss as the door opened.

"Yes, my lady," Anakin said, only barely managing to contain his smirk as he exited the office. "Anything for you," he added to himself.

* * *

_Mandalore_

"Stop right there!"

Shmi halted at the base of the ramp which had only just finished unfurling. Holding a hand up to her eyes, she fought off the intense morning light as she looked down to see two guards dressed in distinctive Mandalorian armor pointing blasters at her.

"Identify yourself!" the left guard demanded.

Ignoring this request, Shmi began descending the ramp. She smiled humorlessly when the two guards simultaneously disengaged their safeties and took a step toward her.

"Hands up!"

Shmi complied with the request, raising both of her hands. As she did so, however, both guards dropped their blasters as they were lifted into the air by their throats. Shmi's concentration wavered at once, however, as Anakin's voice rang in her mind.

_How are you any better than Sidious?_ he had asked._ You use the dark side just like he does._

The guards collapsed to the ground as Shmi lowered her hands, their rugged metallic armor clanging loudly against the steel surface of the landing platform. Drawing her lightsabers, Shmi pointed a blade at each of the men while they were still lying prostrate before her.

"Take me to the Duchess," she said severely. "I will not be denied."

Although she couldn't see their faces, Shmi felt the guards' fear radiating powerfully through the Force upon meeting her baleful glare. Once again Shmi was struck by the power of her eyes; with a simple look, she could strike fear in the hearts of even the most grizzled of warriors.

"Don't make me kill you," she added ominously. Her blades followed each guard as they struggled to their feet. "Very good," she said. "Take me to her."

The guards glanced at each other before seeming to concede that they had no other choice in the matter. Turning around the guards began leading her off the platform. Shmi deactivated her blades, but kept them in either hand as the terrified guards led her away. As if marching down death row, the guards continued through a set of blast doors and into a broad hallway inlaid with steel. Mandalore was a highly militarized planet, in spite of the incumbent pacifist regime. It was no surprise that Maul sought to conquer it for his base.

They made slow progress – the guards were no doubt attempting to stall for time – but finally they reached the end of the long corridor which terminated in another set of heavy steel blast doors. The guards glanced at each other before turning around to face her.

"Well?" Shmi asked irritably. "Where is she?"

"You should not have come here."

Shmi spun around at the unexpected voice. As she did so, half a dozen doors on either side of the hall suddenly opened vertically and scores of troops ran in with blasters at the ready, encircling her. Directly in front of her stood the very man she sought to subdue: Darth Maul. Behind him standing dutifully on either side were a pair of zabraks, one lithe, pale-skinned female and one brawny male with black and yellow coloring.

"Surrender your weapons," Maul ordered.

"Where is the Duchess?" Shmi asked, ignoring the demand.

"Imprisoned," Maul said.

Shmi raised her eyebrows in surprise. It seemed Maul had acted far quicker than she had anticipated. "I must say, I am impressed," Shmi said candidly. "You are quite an expedient one, Maul."

"Who are you?" Maul asked, his hand inching toward his belt.

"Do you not recognize me?" Shmi asked with a smirk. Maul flared his nostrils and narrowed his eyes as he took another step toward her. "Perhaps you will recognize this," she said, activating her red blade and holding it up for Maul to see.

Maul's contemptuous eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the wavering, unstable blade, his gaze shifting southward as he inspected the familiar hilt. "How did you come by this blade?" he asked, a subtle quiver in his voice revealing his shock.

"I stole it from his master ten years ago," Shmi said, wielding the marred hilt around like a baton in front of her.

With one swift move, Maul produced his lightsaber from his belt. A jet black blade crackled to life as Maul slashed the unique weapon through the air menacingly.

"You defeated me then, Maul, but you don't stand a chance against me now," Shmi said, a wicked smile emerging as excitement coursed through her veins.

"You are hopelessly outnumbered," Maul said. Behind him, his two zabrak companions followed the suit of their master and produced blades of their own. The female wielded two red lightsabers whereas the male held only the one.

"Outnumbered but not outclassed," Shmi said. With that, Shmi activated her blue blade and threw it directly at Maul which he narrowly avoided. Dropping to the ground, she slid on the slick floor, ducking underneath the blaster fire. Jumping back up to her feet, Shmi used her free hand to push half a dozen Mandalorians away where they went crashing into the wall, leaving massive indents in the metal.

Her left hand acted on its own, thrusting her lightsaber upward without looking as Maul struck down at her with his curious dark blade. Summoning her blue blade back to her hand from across the room, Shmi caught it and sliced down at Maul's legs. As Maul jumped out of the way, his two companions leapt into the fray on either side of her. Shmi panicked slightly as she had to contort herself awkwardly in order to avoid the female zabrak's whizzing blades. All the while, the Mandalorians were firing at her, yet they were unable to target her without endangering the three zabraks. Fighting off a three-pronged assault, Shmi jumped out of the way as a bolt went zipping past her and into the male zabrak's left thigh. As he collapsed to the ground, Shmi retook the initiative and swung hard at his exposed neck. The female leapt to her counterpart's defense just in time, while Maul unexpectedly turned his back on them.

"You fools!" he shouted.

Shmi couldn't spare any attention to Maul as she engaged the two other zabraks. The male was laboring with the wound to his leg, but the female was able to keep her own. Shmi was impressed as she attempted and failed to bludgeon the female into submission with a whirlwind of overhead and hook swipes. This violent tactic had worked well against the Jedi on Geonosis, but this opponent was clearly in a separate league from them.

A crunching sound distracted Shmi momentarily, forcing her to leap backward away from the female's red blade. Spinning around, she was only barely able to absorb a strike from Maul who had rejoined the fray. The bolts, she noticed, had ceased. As she returned to the defensive, she saw the remaining Mandalorians had been disposed of, presumably by Maul.

Retreating hastily, Shmi felt herself begin to tire as she deflected blow after blow from her three opponents. Her limbs grew heavy as she recalled the sinking sensation she had felt when she had dueled Maul for the first time on Tatooine. She had been so sure then that he was going to kill her, and he surely would have had Dooku not come to rescue her. She would require no such assistance this time, however. Never again would she be defeated.

Redoubling her efforts, Shmi willed herself to disregard the protestations of her limbs as she fought back. With a downward swipe, she managed to singe the flesh of the male zabrak's right shoulder. Shocked, he fell down once more, and this time Shmi was able to capitalize by kicking him squarely in the chest. As he skidded away, Shmi leapt over Maul and struck down at him as she flipped. Landing on her feet, she deflected a blow from the female with her blue blade and began ruthlessly attacking Maul with her red one. Maul stumbled backward as he struggled to keep up with her vicious offensive. Upon narrowly avoiding the female's blade directed toward her chin, Shmi spun away and dropped her blue blade to the ground. Using her free hand, she sent the female flying away where she collided against the wall and collapsed in a heap beside the unconscious Mandalorians.

Shmi attempted to call her blue lightsaber back to her hand, but Maul deflected it with a Force push of his own. Surprised, Shmi was once again forced onto the defensive as Maul attacked her with renewed vigor. Both of them were tiring, however, and it showed in the sloppiness of their techniques. Red clashed with black as the two Sith protégés dueled fiercely in the center of the hallway. Pressing his blade into hers, Maul leaned in until their faces were merely inches apart.

"I will not be defeated," Maul growled as Shmi strained against her stronger opponent.

"Nor will I," she said obstinately through gritted teeth.

With a shout, Maul pushed her away with a forceful thrust of his arms. Shmi fell to the floor on her backside and slid away. Her eyes widened as Maul leapt toward her with his black blade held high. Acting on instinct, Shmi deactivated her red blade and held both hands up.

Maul froze in midair, his back arched and his legs parallel to the ground. His dark blade was still held in his hands which were immobilized over his head. Shmi kept her hands raised as she struggled to her feet, her body trembling ferociously as she exerted the last of her energy by keeping Maul suspended. Her knees shook and her shoulders ached as she finally regained her footing. Unable to hold him any longer, Shmi's arms fell to her sides and Maul plummeted to the ground where he fell with a dull thud on his chest, his chin slamming painfully into the ground. His black blade fell out of his hands on impact, and Shmi quickly swiped it.

With a groan, Maul rolled over and scooted away from her, crimson blood trickling down his chin and neck. Summoning her red blade back to her hand, Shmi struggled toward Maul with the two blades crossed in front of her.

"You are beaten," she said in a tremulous voice.

"How?" Maul asked hoarsely, the red and black blades reflecting in his yellow eyes which were shining with fear. "How did you become this powerful?"

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked, lowering the blades so that they were merely inches from Maul's throat.

Maul considered the blades before him for a moment, his eyes crossed as stared at the point where the red and the black met. "Only a fool would not be," he said finally.

Surprised and oddly flattered by his candor, Shmi lowered the blades to her sides and deactivated them. "You are wise, Maul," she said. "Far wiser than I gave you credit for. But you are not a master yet. From now on, you will call me Master."

"I will never join you," Maul spat as he scooted away from her, shaking his head vigorously as he did so. "Never again will I bow before another," he added with an animalistic growl. "I will not be a slave."

"You will not be my slave," Shmi said, taking a tentative step toward him as her legs continued to wobble precariously underneath her. It seemed that her fight with the Jedi had rendered her overconfident in her abilities. Her duel with Maul had been extremely taxing on her, and while she had clearly emerged victorious, it had not been the decisive blow she had anticipated and hoped for. Maul's spirit was far from broken even if he had been defeated.

"That's what Sidious told me," Maul said, blood along with vitriol spewing out of his mouth as he ceased retreating from her. "That was what he told me after he kidnapped me and forced me to be his apprentice."

Shmi narrowed her eyes, intrigued by this confession. So Maul had not joined Sidious willingly? That explained why he was so set on revenge. Perhaps she could be able to take advantage of this somehow. "I am no Sidious," she said as she attached her red lightsaber back to her belt. The unique black blade was still rested in her right palm, deactivated for the time being. "I seek to destroy him."

"So do I," Maul said.

Shmi smiled thinly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the female zabrak had regained consciousness and was crawling toward her wounded companion. "We could be quite useful to each other," Shmi said, extending her hand to Maul. "I'm sure you know how the adage goes."

"You're no friend of mine," Maul said. "You tried to kill my brother."

Shmi's eyebrows shot up. Looking back over at the wounded male zabrak, she saw that he was being tended to by the female. So this was Maul's brother? He had been the least competent of the three by far, but perhaps it was only because he hadn't had sufficient training. The zabraks could be a most helpful trio indeed should she be able to sway their ring leader to her side.

"I am not a Sith," Shmi said, her hand still extended downward to Maul. "I do not seek power. I seek only two things: revenge and security for my son. Perhaps you can relate, Maul."

Maul wiped his bloody lips with the back of his hand. "You lie," he said viciously. "A person of your abilities will always seek power. It is impossible not to crave it once you have been given a taste." Shmi's face twitched, irritation bubbling up at Maul's unexpected intellectualism. This wasn't how this had been supposed to go. "I can feel that same hunger within you," Maul mused. "You and Sidious are more alike than either of you could possibly realize."

"I am not like Sidious!" Shmi bellowed, activating the black saber and slashing it through the air emphatically. Why was she so incensed by this accusation? Could it be that deep down, she feared that Maul could actually be correct? Could it be that Plagueis's two protégés were more alike than they were different?

Of course not! Her intentions were entirely pure, even if her methods were somewhat less so. Sidious' designs were nothing but despicable and diabolical. The two were thoroughly incomparable! Who was Maul to tell her otherwise?

"Enough of this," Shmi said, pointing the black blade at Maul's defenseless chest. "You will join me, Maul, or I will dispose of you and your… friends."

Seemingly unperturbed by the blade directed at his heart, Maul craned his head around to look at his two zabrak companions. "Take Savage to the medical ward," he instructed the female. "I will deal with this."

"But –"

"Do it, Ventress," Maul said tersely. Turning back to look at Shmi, he asked "I assume this is not a problem with you. You are a chivalrous warrior after all, nothing like Sidious in the slightest."

Shmi snarled at him, not amused by the Kenobi-esque sass. "Drop your weapons first," she barked. "Kick them over to me," she added when Savage had gotten to his feet with Ventress' assistance. Complying, Ventress slowly reached to her belt and dropped her two lightsabers to the ground and kicked them over toward Shmi. Summoning them to her left hand, she caught them both. "And if you try something duplicitous, I will not hesitate to kill your master," she added.

Ventress opened her mouth to offer a retort, but seemingly decided against it. "Come on," she murmured instead to Savage who was leaning heavily against her shoulder.

"Get up, Maul," she ordered as she pocketed the two sleek hilts Ventress had surrendered to her. "You will take me to the Duchess, and then we will talk."


	19. Machinations

_Mandalore_

The two beleaguered combatants made their way through the austere hallways in the palace on Sundari, the capital of Mandalore. Shmi was limping slightly on account to a burgeoning bruise on her upper thigh. Maul was faring no better than her, his face contorted in a seemingly permanent grimace while blood continued to trickle down his chin, the occasional red droplets falling to the floor and marking their progress.

Without a word, Maul led her down deeper into the complex toward the detention block. He waved aside the concerned guards with an agitated flick of his wrist. Laboring past them, the two walked past a few cells before Maul came to a stop in front of one at the end of the hallway. Groaning as he leaned down, Maul entered a code which caused the door to open itself vertically.

"After you," Shmi said, determined not to let Maul out of her sights. Without objection, Maul descended the three steps and walked into the cell, Shmi close behind him.

A slender woman in a pale blue jumpsuit jumped off the cot in the corner of the room when the cell door closed behind Shmi. Snarling at Maul, she pointed a finger angrily at him. "You're not going to get away with this," she said. "When the Republic finds out what you've done –"

"Spare us," Shmi interrupted, taking a step toward the Duchess. Satine's eyes darted away from Maul toward Shmi whom she hadn't noticed to this point. Upon seeing her face, Satine's eyes widened and she took a step back so that the back of her legs hit the cot. "Who are you?" she asked, a slight tremor to her voice.

Shmi didn't answer, her own eyes narrowed as she contemplated the Duchess. So this was Obi-Wan's supposed love? She was fairly tall and quite thin, perhaps unhealthily so. Her pallid face was sharp and angular while her blonde hair was wispy and colorless, giving her an almost sickly appearance. In spite of this, the Duchess was not an unattractive woman – her bright blue eyes revealed a certain vigor and tenacity which was oddly enticing to Shmi.

"Have you decided to execute me?" she asked, looking away from Shmi toward Maul.

"No," Shmi said, speaking on Maul's behalf. "We are not going to kill you, Your Highness."

Once again, Satine turned back toward Shmi. "Are you the one in charge, then?" she asked.

"From now on, yes," Shmi said, glancing behind her at Maul who offered no rebuttal.

"Who are you?" Satine asked once again. "Are you with Death Watch?" Shmi said nothing, neither knowing nor caring what the Death Watch was. Incensed by Shmi's silence, the irascible Duchess clenched her jaw and pointed a quivering finger toward her. "You will be defeated," she said furiously. "When the Jedi learn of this invasion, they will come to my aid."

"The Jedi are preoccupied with the war against the Separatists," Shmi said. "Or perhaps you are referring to one Jedi in particular?" Satine's brow twitched, causing Shmi to smirk. "I'm afraid your dearest Kenobi will not be coming to rescue you," she said.

"You don't know that," Satine said, yet her voice sounded far less sure than her words.

"Oh yes, I do," Shmi said. "You see, Obi-Wan is in my pocket now. I promised to spare your life, and in return he pledged himself to my side."

"You're lying," Satine said, an unmistakable twang of bitterness permeating her voice. "Obi-Wan would never betray the Jedi."

"Not even for you?" Shmi asked.

Satine ground her teeth and looked away. "Especially not for me," she said. She was bitter, alright.

Shmi nodded and sighed. So Obi-Wan had broken this young woman's heart much like she had done to Qui-Gon. The Jedi Code truly was a monstrosity; she had no doubt that Satine was not the only such person to have been spurned in favor of the code. "Perhaps you underestimate the extent of his affections for you," Shmi said, feeling uncharacteristically sympathetic all of a sudden.

Flummoxed by this change in tone, Satine didn't say anything as her mouth hanged open slightly. Clearing her throat, Shmi scolded herself internally for her moment of weakness. She didn't have time for something as insignificant as Obi-Wan's love life.

"Regardless, you will not require Kenobi's assistance," Shmi said. "It is I who is your rescuer."

Satine arched an eyebrow skeptically. "So that's what this is?" she asked. "A rescue?"

Shmi nodded in affirmation. "You seem unconvinced," she observed dryly.

"Why is he with you?" Satine asked, gesturing to Maul.

Shmi looked over at Maul. "I require his services," she said vaguely. "It just so happens that my interests overlap with yours, Your Highness. I also would rather he be elsewhere than on Mandalore."

"I will not be your puppet," Maul growled.

"You won't be," Shmi assured him. "You will be my most esteemed seneschal."

Maul narrowed his eyes. "That sounds like a euphemism," he said.

Shmi shrugged, disinterested by the semantics. "Then allow me to put it in terms you can't misconstrue," she said. "I want you to assume control over the Confederacy."

Maul was silent as he assimilated this statement. Swiveling her head between Shmi and Maul, Satine finally broke the silence. "You're with the Separatists?" she asked.

"No," Shmi said shortly.

"But –"

Shmi held up her hand without looking at Satine to stop her from talking. "What do you say, Maul?" she asked.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Surely you know that the Confederacy is nothing more than a vessel for Sidious' ambitions," she said. "He is the puppeteer pulling the strings on both sides of the conflict. We can't subvert his control over the Republic, but we can wrest away his control over the Confederacy now that Dooku has perished."

"Dooku is dead?" Maul asked, surprised.

"I killed him," Shmi said plainly.

"Why? And how?" Maul asked.

"Immaterial," Shmi dismissed. "What it means, however, is that there is a power vacuum at the top of the Confederacy. I want you to fill that void, Maul."

"As your puppet," Maul said.

"As my ally," Shmi corrected. "We both want to defeat, Sidious, do we not? Our cooperation will hasten this end."

"This doesn't sound like an equal arrangement," Maul said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Nor should it be, considering how we are not equals," Shmi said snidely. "Do not delude yourself into thinking that you are on my level. Sidious alone is comparable to me." Vexed by this assessment yet too intelligent to object with it, Maul bit his tongue and looked away. "I understand your reservation," Shmi said, shifting tactics. "I was a slave for ten years of my life, just like you were. I can assure you that under my tutelage, you will be empowered rather than repressed." Shmi paused, recalling the similarity of Plagueis' pitch to her ten years ago. "I don't want to be your master," she continued. "Nor do I want you to be my puppet. I want us to be allies, plain and simple. Together, we can be infinitely more powerful than we would be apart. Together, we will be strong enough to get our revenge on Sidious."

Maul pursed his lips and uncrossed his arms as he considered this proposition. Shmi didn't know how else to improve her pitch. From her point of view, it seemed like a no-brainer for Maul; she was offering him a position of immeasurable power and the possibility to get revenge on the man who ruined the first half of his life. How could he possibly still have reservations?

"What about me?" Satine asked suddenly.

Shmi quirked an eyebrow and glanced at the Duchess with a surly frown. "What about you?" she asked irritably.

"You want me to pledge Mandalore to the Separatists, don't you?"

"Not at all," Shmi said with a shake of her head. "I have no interest in the Separatist cause. As long as you maintain neutrality and don't reveal my identity to the Senate, I couldn't care less what you do."

"How could I reveal your identity if I don't even know who you are?" Satine asked.

"Exactly," Shmi said, smirking.

"You're a Sith Lord, aren't you?" Satine asked.

"No," Shmi said at once.

"A Jedi?"

"No," Shmi said again.

"Then what are you?"

"Something else," Shmi said cryptically.

While clearly far from sated, Satine nonetheless ceased asking questions as Shmi had made it abundantly clear that she would not be giving any answers. Frowning, Satine sat down heavily on the cot and rested her gaunt face in her hands. "What's taking so long?" she asked irritably after nearly a full minute of silence. "When can I leave?"

"It's entirely up to Maul," Shmi said, giving Maul a pointed look. "It's time you gave me an answer."

"It's not as if I have much of a choice," he said. "I am unarmed. If I decided to reject your offer, you would kill me."

"Very true," Shmi affirmed.

Maul made a deep, guttural growl as he paced away from her a few steps. "Then allow me to present some conditions," he said lowly, his back facing her as he stared off blankly at the featureless cell wall.

More conditions? Young people could be so demanding. "What are they?" she snapped.

"You will do nothing to jeopardize the lives of my brother or of Ventress," he said, his voice somewhat muted as he spoke to the wall. "I pledged to the Night Sisters that no harm came to either them. You will not have me do anything to compromise that promise."

Shmi considered this request with her brow raised. The extent of Maul's consideration for his two companions had been something she hadn't anticipated. She had always thought of Maul as a heartless machine, manufactured exclusively to Sidious' liking. Evidently that was not the case. "Very well," she conceded. "I have no interest in them, regardless."

"Good," Maul said, turning back to face her.

"Is that all?" Shmi asked.

"No," Maul said. "I have one more condition."

"Oh?"

"My lightsaber," he said, gesturing to her belt. "It belongs to me."

Shmi shook her head at once. "It hasn't belonged to you in a long time," she said, instinctively covering the hilt with her hand. "It is mine now."

"I constructed it," Maul countered.

"And you did an admirable job," Shmi complimented. "You can understand why I might not want to concede it."

Maul bared his teeth, snarling savagely. "I will not surrender on this," he said resolutely.

Shmi frowned, removing her hand from her belt. She could understand why Maul was so insistent. She loved the red blade, sure, but she had a far more intimate and special relationship with the blue one she had constructed for herself. A Jedi – and evidently a Sith as well – cherished their blade like nothing else.

"What about the other one?" she asked, referring to the third hilt suspended from her belt. "The black one."

"The darksaber belongs with me," Satine said unexpectedly.

"Excuse me?" Shmi asked lowly as she looked down at the seated Duchess. "What use could you possibly have with a lightsaber?"

"It belongs with the leader of the Mandalorians," Satine insisted, her chin held high. "It is a revered cultural object."

Shmi narrowed her eyes contemptuously and produced the hilt from her belt. Activating the weapon, she pointed it in the direction of the Duchess who stiffened in fear. "A pacifist has no need of a blade of this quality," she said definitively. "It deserves to be wielded by someone with true power."

"Such as yourself?" Satine asked, her eyes crossed as she quaked before point of the blade.

"Indeed," Shmi said, admiring the jet black blade with a smug smile. This truly was a magnificent weapon. Reluctantly, she deactivated the blade and lowered her arm. "Fine," she said, returning her attention to Maul. "I have no need of a third blade anyway." Reattaching the darksaber to her belt, she simultaneously relinquished Maul's old blade. Gazing upon the marred hilt forlornly, Shmi sighed before extending it to its creator.

Maul reached out and grabbed the weapon, yet Shmi didn't release it at once. "Together we will bring an end to Sidious' plans," she said, her intense eyes meeting Maul's pale yellow ones. "If you so much as consider betraying me, however, I will destroy you. Do I make myself clear?"

Maul nodded. "Completely," he said. Shmi scrutinized him for a moment longer before slackening her grip on the weapon she had wielded proudly for over a decade. Shmi forced herself to look away when Maul attached the blade to his own belt, feeling as if she was giving away her baby to him.

"Come on," she said, her voice somewhat husky as she turned to Satine. "Time to go, Your Highness. We have some work to do still."

* * *

_Coruscant_

Obi-Wan tapped his foot rapidly against the floor of the elevator as it ascended silently. Chewing his lower lip, he looked up when he felt himself lighten ever so slightly when the elevator came to a stop, the door sliding open with a soft ding. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan stepped forward into the blue-carpeted hallway which muted his footsteps.

Reaching the front door, Obi-Wan rang the bell and waited patiently, continuing to take deep, stabilizing breaths as he attempted to calm himself down. It was difficult, however. All he could think about was Satine. Shmi's message had been extremely cryptic; all he knew was that the invasion had begun earlier than she had anticipated. What did that mean? Was Satine in danger? Had Maul already won?

The thought petrified Obi-Wan like nothing else. While he had never deluded himself into thinking that he and Satine could ever be anything more than stilted ex-lovers, he had always assumed they would see each other again. He hadn't seen her in over ten years, at least not in person. He paid close attention to developments on Mandalore, what with the rampant terrorism and political strife on the planet renowned for its chauvinism. It was admirable for Satine to be so overtly pacifist in such an environment, yet it caused Obi-Wan a great deal of grief regardless.

Because of this, Shmi's threat had resonated especially powerfully with him. The prospect of Satine being killed was one he was intensely familiar with and equally terrified of. He didn't care if she hated him for what he did to her – in his mind, she had every right to despise him – but that didn't mean he wouldn't do anything in his power to keep her safe. If that meant lying to the Jedi Council on Shmi's behalf, he would do that for Satine.

"Who's there?"

Roused from his musings, Obi-Wan looked up at the door and blinked a few times as he reminded himself what he was doing. "It's Master Kenobi," he said over the intercom.

"Obi-Wan?" the voice said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Anakin," Obi-Wan responded. "Is he here?"

The voice didn't respond for a few moments, causing Obi-Wan to frown irritably. It was terribly irresponsible of Anakin to drop off the grid like he had. He had practically searched the entire Jedi Temple before realizing where he must have gone.

Abruptly, the door swung open to reveal Anakin. He was fully clothed, much to Obi-Wan's relief. The intense vexation on Anakin's face, however, affirmed his suspicions that he was interrupting something. "What are you doing here?" he asked in an agitated tone.

"I thought I'd find you here," Obi-Wan said. "May I come in?" Not waiting for an answer, Obi-Wan pushed past his freshly-minted Padawan into the apartment. Traipsing into the elegant living room, Obi-Wan stopped to bow when he saw Padmé seated on the couch dressed in a navy-blue silken dress. He noted that this was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair down; the long, undulating curls cascading down well past her shoulders. "My lady," he said suavely. "It is a pleasure."

With a panicky expression, Padmé looked up at Anakin. "What's he doing here?" she asked, disregarding his diplomatic greeting in a shockingly un-senatorial manner.

"How did you even get in here?" Anakin asked, walking around him toward Padmé.

"Captain Typho was quite understanding when I informed him of the urgency of the situation," Obi-Wan said as Anakin came to a stop behind Padmé.

"He just let you in?" Anakin asked, crossing his arms angrily and assuming a wide, defensive posture.

"He did," Obi-Wan affirmed.

Anakin scowled and looked down at Padmé. "Why do people trust him more than me?" he asked her.

"Maybe it's because of the braid," Padmé said, playfully reaching up to give it a tug. Anakin swatted her hand away and pushed his braid behind his neck irritably. "You told him, didn't you?" Padmé asked Anakin, her previously vivacious expression morphing into a frown. "Why would you do that? I thought we agreed to keep this a secret!"

"I'm sorry, my love, but it's done. For what it's worth, Obi-Wan promised not to tell anyone, right Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan blinked a few times in surprise as he gazed upon this unlikely couple with wide, doleful eyes. Anakin and Padmé were acting so naturally with each other. Where had the awkward, bumbling teenage Anakin gone? He had been replaced with a confident, loving partner whom Padmé evidently adored. If only Qui-Gon could have seen his son now. He would have been so very proud.

"I promise," Obi-Wan assured Padmé, his voice sounding somewhat strained as he considered what Anakin had told him earlier that day.

Are you sure it's not you who made the mistake?

While he was terrified of Shmi in large part due to her brutality and extensive use of the dark side, he was also partially afraid of her because of what he saw of himself in her. Qui-Gon had often mused how similar he was to his estranged wife, noting how they both had unhealthy proclivities toward introversion and unwarranted self-doubt. Upon being acquainted with Shmi's alter-ego, Darth Elegius, Obi-Wan had come to see even more of himself in Shmi than Qui-Gon had ever considered, however.

While they were different in so many ways, he and Elegius had one thing in common: they had both abandoned the people they claimed to love. While he certainly hadn't talked to her about it, Obi-Wan could tell that Elegius regretted her decision to leave Qui-Gon. Being separated from him had corrupted her, enabling her to be transformed into the monster she had become. Could Obi-Wan not suffer the same fate? Could he have doomed himself to a comparable life of misery by pushing Satine away?

Seeing Anakin and Padmé together only amplified this festering qualm. The two were young, but it was clear they loved each other in spite of the brevity of their relationship. Anakin was perhaps wiser than Obi-Wan had ever given him credit for. While he had of course been devastated by Qui-Gon's death as much or even more so than Obi-Wan had been, Anakin had been smart enough to mitigate his grief by embracing the remaining people whom he loved: Shmi and Padmé. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, no longer had anyone else to turn to since he had already turned Satine away. The more he thought about it, the more foolish he felt.

"So what are you doing here?" Anakin asked, stirring Obi-Wan from his ruminations.

Obi-Wan glanced at Padmé momentarily. "We, er… we received an urgent communique," he said cryptically.

"Can't it wait until the morning?" Anakin asked irritably.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, displeased by his new Padawan's impudence. "Emphasis on the urgent part of urgent communique," he said, giving Anakin a pointed look.

Anakin opened his mouth then stopped, realizing what Obi-Wan was saying. "Why didn't I hear about it?" Anakin asked indignantly.

"You left your comlink back at Qui-Gon's," Obi-Wan informed him with a disapproving frown. "Why else do you think it took me four hours to find you?"

"Oh," Anakin said, his face turning red as he patted his pockets to find that his comlink wasn't there. "Er… sorry."

Obi-Wan nodded and gave Anakin a wry smile. "I reckoned as much," he said. "Now, shall we get going?"

"Going!" Padmé protested. "Why does Anakin have to go?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you why," Obi-Wan said, deriving immeasurable satisfaction from the crestfallen expression on Anakin's face. "Secret Jedi business, you see."

"But –"

"I'm sorry, Padmé," Anakin interrupted, reaching down and placing his hand on her shoulder. "I can't stay."

Padmé pursed her lips and looked away before reaching up and giving Anakin's hand a squeeze. "I understand," she said, although her tone conveyed her disappointment.

"I'll be by the elevator," Obi-Wan said, eager to get away from the couple as they said their goodbyes. Without seeking confirmation that anyone heard him, Obi-Wan spun around and sped out of the living room, his mind feeling muddled and his heart conflicted.

"How did it even happen?"

"Pardon?"

"You and Padmé."

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to flying. It was late at night, but the air ways were no less congested than usual. Anakin had a knack for weaving in and out of traffic, however, so they were making good time to Qui-Gon's apartment. Obi-Wan was more than content to allow Anakin to chauffeur him around; he hated flying.

"None of your business," Anakin said sharply. "Why do you even care?" Obi-Wan raised his hands in surrender and looked away, staring blindly at the bright lights of the never-ending city skyline. He knew why he was so fascinated with Anakin's relationship with Padmé, but he was never going to tell Anakin the reason.

He was jealous.

He wanted what Anakin had, and he could have had it too had he not been so foolish in his youth. Recent developments had given Obi-Wan greater clarity. He knew he didn't want to suffer Shmi or Qui-Gon's fates. Despite that, he had no idea how to go about repairing the damage he had caused to his relationship with Satine. Perhaps that was why he was prodding Anakin for details. He needed advice, but he was too proud to ask Anakin for it directly.

And now he may have lost any chance he had of restoring things with her. What if Shmi had been too late? What if Maul had killed Satine? He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that had happened.

The duo concluded their trip in silence. Reaching Qui-Gon's apartment, the two Jedi jumped out of the speeder and walked toward the entrance.

"We really need to fix this," Anakin commented as they passed the crumpled remains of the door.

"That's your mom's problem," Obi-Wan said, kicking a shard of metal out of the way with his boot. "She's the one to blame, after all."

Anakin shrugged, conceding the point. Reaching the kitchen, Obi-Wan made his way to the table and activated the holoprojector installed in the center. Beckoning Anakin to stand next to him, Obi-Wan stood back upright whilst waving his hand so as to shutter the blinds on the windows. The room was plunged into darkness as Obi-Wan and Anakin waited to establish a connection.

After nearly a minute, the holoprojector finally burst to life, a shimmering blue hologram emerging from the table.

"Finally!" Shmi's hologram said. "I've been waiting for hours!"

"Anakin went AWOL," Obi-Wan said, giving Anakin a dirty look.

"That's not true!" Anakin insisted.

"Yes, it is," Obi-Wan shot back.

"Boys! Cut it out!" Shmi interrupted sternly. "We don't have time for petty quibbles."

Anakin bit his tongue and looked away from Obi-Wan. "Sorry, Mom," he mumbled apologetically. Obi-Wan was suddenly struck with a flashback of a much younger Anakin – back when he was cute and less rambunctious. Oh, how he missed that version of Anakin. His mother seemed to instill in him a humbler and more juvenile temperament, far more so than Obi-Wan or even Qui-Gon had ever managed to do.

"I'll tell you everything that happened, but first I need you to talk to your girlfriend, Kenobi," Shmi said.

"Is she alright?" Obi-Wan asked urgently, choosing to disregard Shmi's referral of Satine.

"She's fine, but she's pulling a major hissy fit," Shmi said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "I'll be right back."

With that, Shmi's hologram flickered out. Obi-Wan swallowed nervously and glanced at Anakin.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"No idea," Anakin said with a shrug.

Sweating a bit, Obi-Wan ran his hand through his hair as he returned his attention to the holoprojector which had just sprung back to life.

"Satine!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

Satine was seated and her hands were in binders on top of her lap. She was dressed in a plain jumpsuit which looked like an admittedly high-quality prison garb.

"Hello, Obi-Wan," she said flatly as she glowered down at him.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan asked, choosing not to focus on the frigidity of her greeting. "Why are you restrained?"

"My government was overthrown and I was captured by a band of thugs," Satine explained, her bony face contorted with bitterness. "Your friend here claims to have rescued me, but I remain unconvinced. She has been extremely disrespectful to me."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, angered yet not surprised by this. Shmi hadn't shown him an ounce of respect, so it made sense for her to act with similar impertinence toward Satine. "Don't worry, Satine," Obi-Wan assured. "She won't hurt you. She gave me her word."

Satine narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you dare call me that, Obi-Wan," she said haughtily. "You will address me by my proper title."

Obi-Wan's mouth fell open and he saw out of the corner of his eye Anakin smirking at him. "Uh… sorry, Your Highness," he managed to say.

Satine tilted her chin upward, evidently placated by his acquiescence. "This woman has refused to release me until I agree to relinquish the darksaber," she said. "Tell her that this is unacceptable."

Obi-Wan cringed at this request. He knew there was nothing he could do to change Shmi's mind if she wanted the darksaber, the hallowed weapon which belongs to the leader of the Mandalorians.

"This is nonnegotiable, Your Highness," Obi-Wan heard Shmi's voice say. "You should interpret this as a compliment. The darksaber is a remarkable blade."

"Do you have no shame?" Obi-Wan asked Shmi. "You are pilfering a venerated cultural object!"

Shmi stepped back into view, standing behind Satine. "It's admirable of you to defend her, Obi-Wan, but your protestations are futile. I control all the cards here."

"I will report your theft to the Senate if you do not back down," Satine threatened, craning her head to look up at Shmi.

"You will do no such thing," Shmi growled.

"Is that right?" Satine challenged.

"Oh yes, it is," Shmi said, turning back to look at Obi-Wan with glinting eyes. Obi-Wan was momentarily bemused by this expression, but his benign confusion suddenly transformed into shock when he felt his throat begin to constrict and his whole body be lifted upward several inches.

"Obi-Wan!"

"Mom, stop!"

"Let him go!"

Little black dots perforated Obi-Wan's vision as he struggled against the invisible yet nonetheless inexorable grip on his throat. His legs flailed wildly as unparalleled terror engulfed him.

"Stop it! Please, stop it!"

Just as his eyes began to roll back into his skull, the pressure on his larynx finally relented and he collapsed to the ground. Falling to his knees, Anakin rushed to his side and placed a hand on his back. Hacking horribly, saliva dribbled down his bearded chin and onto the floor as he caressed his throat.

"I will not be defied."

Obi-Wan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up to see Shmi's hologram looming over him. Still seated, Satine was staring at Shmi with wide, terrified eyes.

"Henceforth, my will is to be treated as law. If I say the darksaber is mine, it is mine. Do I make myself clear?" Thoroughly petrified, Satine did not respond as she tried in vain to shrink away from Shmi. "Do I make myself clear?" Shmi asked again, raising her voice furiously.

"Don't threaten her!" Obi-Wan protested hoarsely as he struggled to his feet.

Shmi turned her incandescent eyes to him, causing Obi-Wan's resolve to wither. Reaching to her belt, Shmi produced the darksaber and activated it in one swift motion.

"This is mine," she said, pointing the tip of the blade at Satine's trembling chest.

"Don't hurt her!" Obi-Wan wailed, his limbs quivering as panic coursed through him. No more than an inch of space separated Satine from the infinitesimally sharp point of the darksaber. Shmi could kill her with the slightest thrust of her wrist…

"You will obey me," Shmi rumbled, glaring at Obi-Wan as she inched the blade even closer to Satine's chest. "Or else."

"I promise! I promise!" Obi-Wan cried.

"And you?" Shmi asked, returning her attention to Satine who nodded her head vigorously. "Good," Shmi purred. With a triumphant look toward him, Shmi deactivated the blade and Obi-Wan exhaled loudly in relief. Attaching the hilt to her belt, Shmi took a step away from Satine, the edge of her hologram becoming somewhat distorted as she left the field of view of the holoprojector.

"You're horrible," Obi-Wan spat.

"But I am not evil," Shmi said assuredly. "Sidious is."

"The ends do not justify the means, Shmi," Obi-Wan said defiantly.

"Says the fool," Shmi said snidely. "I alone comprehend the magnitude of the threat Sidious poses and therefore I alone can dictate whether my actions are justifiable or not."

Obi-Wan bit his tongue to prevent himself from contradicting her. He was firmly aware that even though her weapon was sheathed, the threat posed to Satine's life was far from extinguished. Their eyes met, and Obi-Wan attempted to convey his support without words. Despite the poor resolution of her hologram, Obi-Wan could tell that Satine's eyes were shining with tears of fear, and that infuriated him to no end. He would not forgive Anakin's mother for this injurious offense.

"Now that this is settled, we must proceed with matters of greater significance," Shmi said. Flourishing her hand as she spun around, Satine's binders suddenly sprung off her wrists and fell to the floor. "You may leave us, Your Highness."

Surprised, Satine ceased flexing her wrists and turned to Shmi. "I can go?" she asked.

Shmi turned to her with a contemptuous glare. "Did I stutter?" she said bitingly.

Satine blinked a few times before leaping out of her chair. As she made to rush away, Obi-Wan acted without thinking as he raised his hand to stop her. "Satine, wait!" he said urgently.

Swiveling her head to look at him, Satine froze. Eyebrow quirked inquisitively, Shmi sidestepped Satine who had been obscuring her view. "I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said with as much candor as he could muster. "For everything."

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin and Shmi staring at him, but he paid them no heed. Gulping nervously, he wiped his sweaty palms against his robes as he waited for Satine to respond. Glancing behind her toward Shmi, Satine was clearly eager to depart. "Goodbye, Obi-Wan," she said curtly before striding out of his field of view.

Crushed, Obi-Wan stared at the periphery of the hologram where Satine had left with his mouth hanging open slightly. Tearing his eyes away back toward Shmi, he faltered when he saw her looking at him with a compassionate, albeit admittedly quizzical expression. Her solicitous countenance hardened back into the default, impassive glower in the blink of an eye, however.

"Back to business," she said stiffly. "You will be pleased to hear that I succeeded in turning Maul to our side, at least for now."

"Our side?" Obi-Wan repeated incredulously. "What side? The only reason either of us are cooperating with you is because you threatened us into submission!"

"The semantics bore me, Kenobi," Shmi said with a blasé swish of her hand. "Besides, Anakin agreed to join me willingly. Isn't that right, Ani?"

Obi-Wan turned to look at Anakin who seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the question. No doubt he too had been horrified by that brutish display. Was it possible he was feeling any regrets about his decision? "What do you want with Maul?" Anakin asked, dodging the question.

Shmi frowned, evidently displeased by Anakin's diversion, yet nonetheless she didn't pursue the issue any further. "Maul is to replace Dooku," she explained. "But this time, he will be my pawn rather than Plagueis'."

"How do you mean?" Anakin asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Dooku served as a double agent for nearly an entire decade. Ostensibly he was Sidious' apprentice and seneschal. In reality, he was spying on behalf of Plagueis."

"Then why did he… do what he did?" Anakin asked, his voice choking up a bit.

"I do not know," Shmi said in a softer tone. "Perhaps his loyalties were shaken. Regardless, Dooku is no longer relevant. Maul will assume his role as leader of the Confederacy. If all goes to plan, Sidious will retake Maul as his apprentice, allowing him to become the ultimate spy on my behalf."

"Do you really expect that to work?" Obi-Wan asked, crossing his arms disapprovingly. "Sidious would be a fool not to suspect something."

"I have no doubt that he will," Shmi said. "Even so, he requires an apprentice. The demands of his public persona are too great for him to execute his plans by himself."

"His public persona?" Anakin asked.

"In order to prevent conspicuity, the Sith must hide behind masks. Plagueis, for example, assumed the role of a wealthy banker. Sidious, however, had far greater aspirations for his public persona."

"What does that mean?" Obi-Wan asked.

Shmi grinned impishly, her eyes glinting as she shifted her gaze back to Anakin. "Darth Sidious is a very powerful man, in more ways than one," she said. "In fact, he might be the most powerful man in the history of the galaxy, especially now that the war with the Separatists has begun."

"Why?" Anakin asked.

Shmi paused for dramatic effect, causing Obi-Wan to roll his eyes. "Just tell us who he is," he said irritably.

Shmi frowned at him, clearly displeased by his interjection. "You're no fun, Kenobi," she said, pouting her lips at him. "A little bit of suspense won't kill you."

"No, but you might," Obi-Wan said whilst crossing his arms in front of him.

"I fail to see how that is relevant," Shmi said. "Although it is true, of course."

"Could you two stop bickering for once?" Anakin interrupted, preventing Obi-Wan from offering another acerbic retort. "Just tell us, will you?" he enjoined Shmi. "Please," he added hastily when she frowned at this brusque demand. "Who is Sidious?"

Shmi's discontented scowl smoothed into a more contemplative mien as she considered her son. "You have no idea, do you?" she asked. Anakin furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Let this serve as a lesson to you both," Shmi continued, her nose upturned as she stared down at them imperiously. "Sidious is the ultimate master of deception and deceit. He is not to be underestimated. I alone represent a threat to his plans for galactic domination."

"And the Jedi do not?" Obi-Wan asked skeptically.

"Not at all," Shmi said at once.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because the Jedi have all but pledged themselves to his control," Shmi said. "They are performing his will unbeknownst to them."

"What are you talking about?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Sidious controls everything, or so he thinks. He controls both sides of the conflict: both the Confederacy and the Republic."

"He can't be in charge of the Republic!" Anakin protested. "He can't possibly have control over the entire Senate!"

"He is the Senate," Shmi said with a shake of her head.

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, bewildered.

"Darth Sidious is the Chancellor of the Republic, Sheev Palpatine. They are one and the same." Stunned silence met this statement, and Obi-Wan felt his jaw slacken in disbelief. Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord? The accusation was as incomprehensible as it was incredible. Surely, she must be lying! "You don't believe me, do you?" Shmi asked.

"That's impossible!" Anakin insisted. "The Chancellor is a good man!"

"He'd want you to think that," Shmi said. "Have you ever wondered why the Chancellor has such an acute interest in you, Anakin?"

"He's a friend!" Anakin said defensively.

"He is anything but," Shmi said darkly. "Sidious, or as you know him, Palpatine, plans upon assuming a parental role in your life. I imagine that is why he ordered Dooku kill your father: so that you would be alienated from the Order and pressured into his perfidious embrace."

Anakin shook his head vigorously, unwilling to accept this. Obi-Wan meanwhile was having a much easier time wrapping his head around the idea. He, much like Qui-Gon, had never liked the Chancellor. He kept his reservations hidden for the most part on account to the nonpartisan nature of his profession, but his general distaste for the Chancellor and his politics had pervaded and perhaps even amplified over the years. He had managed to stay in power far longer than the law had previously permitted, and Obi-Wan had always had a funny feeling that Palpatine's ambitions were more sinister than what met the eye.

"You see now why it will be so difficult to defeat him?" Shmi said. "The entire Jedi Order as well as the new clone army are at his disposal. The resources at his fingertips are enormous. If we are to emerge victorious, we must chip away at the massive apparatus he commands. Our operations must remain clandestine, however. If he uncovers our plot, he will adjust his own and all our work will be for naught."

"But how are you going to defeat him?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the task ahead of them. How could they fight an opponent who literally controlled everything?

"We must be patient," Shmi said. "Sidious will only drop his character when he feels entirely confident that he has reached the fullest extent of his power. If our sabotage proves successful, however, the entire structure will come crashing down on him when he executes the final step of his master plan. Then he will be most vulnerable and that is when I will strike."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, unconvinced by the vagueness of this plan. "And if you fail?" he asked brazenly.

Shmi raised her eyebrows and smiled humorlessly. "Failure is not an option," she said. "When the time comes, Sidious will be vanquished. I will get my revenge."

* * *

Spindly fingers interlaced in front of his mouth, Darth Sidious stared blankly at the now deactivated holoprojector on his desk as he contemplated this unexpected turn of events. He had always suspected that Maul would return in some fashion, but never had he anticipated something like this. It was a bold move – bordering on foolishness, in fact. Maul had seized his opportunity now that Dooku was out of the picture, leaping into the fray and demanding that Sidious bestow upon him the same powers the late-Tyranus had once controlled.

"Allow me to serve you once more, Master," Maul had supplicated him. "Together, we will destroy the Jedi once and for all."

It was an impassioned pitch. Forceful yet not desperate, brazen but not brash. A less astute man may have fallen for Maul's inspired rhetoric. Sidious, however, was nothing if not perspicacious. It was clear to him that Maul was not acting alone. After all, he knew Maul like no other and he was firmly aware that such a move was highly uncharacteristic of his former apprentice. He trained and raised Maul in such a way that he would not challenge his master like how he had challenged Plagueis. While of course Maul was as power-hungry as any respectable Sith, he was more subtle in his machinations. Such an overt gesture betokened that Maul was little more than a puppet in this game.

A puppet of whom, however? That question gave Sidious little pause: it must be Elegius. It was ironic, considering how Sidious had assumed that Maul killed Shmi Skywalker ten years ago, yet now here he was following her orders. Elegius truly was a shrewd one. While she of course presented a threat to him and would ultimately have to be eliminated, he derived much pleasure from their interactions thus far. It was almost a relief to have a genuine challenger. The Jedi were far too obtuse and complacent to seriously challenge him. Elegius was a far more entertaining and formidable foe.

Yet she had underestimated him, almost offensively so. Had she honestly thought that he wouldn't detect Maul's deceptions? It would be terribly underwhelming and frankly disappointing if she had. He had thought Elegius was intelligent! Alas, the burden of the sagacious man is that all others appear to be fools. Sidious would always be several steps ahead of both allies and enemies alike. Therefore, while he had accepted Maul's request to assume Dooku's now-vacant position, he hadn't done so injudiciously. On the contrary, he would flip this arrangement on its head, granting him the advantage which Elegius thought she had obtained.

It was all coming into place now. The brilliance of his plan inspired delirious glee within him; soon all those who opposed him would be eliminated, whether they be the Jedi, the Senate, or the troublesome Elegius. He was the composer and they were the orchestra, all unwittingly playing to his melodious tune. And the crescendo of his great symphony was near!

The comlink on his desk suddenly crackled to life, distracting Sidious from his musings. "He is here, your Excellency," the voice informed him.

"Very good," Sidious crooned. "Send him up right away."

With a sly smirk, Sidious lowered his hands from his mouth and stood up. Within the blink of an eye, the countenance of Sidious transmuted into that of Palpatine. Adopting a not entirely disingenuous smile, Palpatine walked around his desk toward the door of his senatorial office. Just as he arrived, the door slid open to reveal the very man he wanted to see. The key to his ambitions, the fundamental axis on which his plans were to revolve. He didn't know this, of course, but Palpatine was sure that when the time came, the Master Jedi would be immeasurably useful to him.

"Welcome, Master Windu," Palpatine greeted with a humble bow of his head. "Thank you for joining me on such short notice. We have a great many things to discuss."


	20. Trepidation

_Three years later_

_19 BBY – Outer Rim_

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Anakin was standing upright with his hands clasped behind his back, thumbs fidgeting absentmindedly with the loop of his belt while his foot tapped agitatedly against the floor.

"_This is what we have been waiting for, Ani. You should be excited, not nervous._"

His interactions with his mother over the past three years had been restricted almost exclusively to holocommunication. One the one hand, this saddened Anakin as it felt as if his relationship with his mother had never fully been restored. While they communicated frequently, never were their interactions physical nor substantial. Their relationship was businesslike, which was not how Anakin imagined their reunion to manifest.

Yet he knew that his mother had been inalterably transformed. While elements of the woman he remembered from his childhood still remained, she was very much an entirely different person to him. His mother had become Darth Elegius, no longer Shmi Skywalker. It pained Anakin to admit this, but he knew it was the truth. Ten years of virtual solitude and training in the dark side had taken their toll on her. Her mercurial and violent nature terrified Anakin. He yearned for the return of the woman whom he and his father had loved. Perhaps this was why he remained so ardently loyal to her in spite of her malevolence. While he doubted that it was possible, he forced himself to maintain an optimistic attitude that one day his true mother would return.

"I know, but I can't help but feel like this is a trap," Anakin said, biting his lower lip as he met his mother's holographic gaze. Just a few hours prior, Anakin had received a message from the Jedi Council instructing him to return to Coruscant at the behest of the Chancellor – or as Anakin knew him to be, Darth Sidious.

"_It is a trap, but one which we are prepared for,_" Shmi told him. "_Sidious will try to manipulate you in some way to join him. When he reveals himself to you, we will make our move._"

"But what if he knows?" Anakin asked.

"_He doesn't know,_" Shmi dismissed breezily. "_Remember what Maul said? Sidious told him that you are still his ultimate aim._"

"I know, I know," Anakin said, nodding his head. Maul had been their primary source of information over the past three years, and based on his testaments, Sidious was practically obsessed with Anakin. The tales Maul told them were disturbing to say the least. Sidious had even already christened Anakin with a Sith name in preparation for the day when he joined him: Darth Vader.

The name gave Anakin chills. While he knew that he would never assume the name, it was perturbing nonetheless that Sidious had such well-defined plans for him. Based on the confidence with which Sidious seemed to believe that Anakin would pledge himself to him, Anakin oftentimes found himself wondering if he would have fallen for Sidious' lies had his mother not warned him. He would instinctively insist that he would never do such a thing, but his vociferous denial belied a deep-seated self-doubt. Was he not the son of Darth Elegius as well as Shmi Skywalker? Was the darkness not innate to him as it was to his mother? Perhaps given the right circumstances, he could indeed transform into Vader much like Shmi had turned into Elegius.

"_Don't worry, Ani,_" Shmi said, her affectionate tone returning once again. "_Soon this will all be over._"

Anakin frowned and looked away. What did that even mean? Despite the frequency of their correspondence, not once had Shmi told him what her plans were for after Sidious was defeated. He hoped this was merely because she herself didn't know, but he suspected that the real reason was more sinister: she intended to assume power herself. What would he do in that case? Follow along with her? He couldn't possibly do that. While he of course had moral qualms about this, the main reason why he abhorred the idea was because he knew Padmé would never condone it. She was the ultimate champion of democracy. Should Shmi attempt to seize power in the wake of Sidious' demise, Anakin knew that he would choose Padmé over her.

But that wasn't going to happen. It _couldn't_ happen. He couldn't bear the prospect of having to choose between his mother and his wife. Such an eventuality would tear him apart.

"_In the meantime, I think it would be wise for you to advise Padmé to leave the capital,_" Shmi said unexpectedly.

"Why?" Anakin asked, instantly on guard at the mention of Padmé. His mother knew about their relationship, but he had never revealed to her that they were in fact married. Only Obi-Wan knew about that.

"_Things are going to get rough on Coruscant,_" Shmi said vaguely. "_It would be safest for her to be off-world until this affair is finished._"

Anakin nodded slowly, dreading this assignment. No doubt, Padmé would not take his demand lightly, especially considering that he couldn't tell her specifically why she had to leave. Anakin had never told Padmé about his involvement with Shmi. While it had been tremendously difficult at first to keep this enormous secret, over time the burden grew less arduous. He had come to realize that if Padmé uncovered the truth, she would be horrified of him. After all, she knew Shmi as Elegius, the monstrous woman who had massacred the Jedi on Geonosis. It would be entirely logical for Padmé to despise him should she discover the extent of his coordination with Elegius.

"I'll try to convince her to return to Naboo," Anakin said.

Shmi shook her head at once. "_I have somewhere far safer in mind,_" she said.

"Why wouldn't she be safe on Naboo?" Anakin asked.

"_It's the Emperor's home world, Anakin,_" Shmi reminded him. "_If Sidious knows about your relationship, he could attempt to use her as leverage somehow._"

Anakin gulped nervously as he considered this possibility. "Where would you have me send her instead?" he asked.

"_Maul will protect her,_" Shmi said. "_Have Obi-Wan bring her to him on Mustafar._"

"I can't do that!" Anakin protested. Maul was renowned across the galaxy as the leader of the Separatist cause. He couldn't send Padmé to Maul without revealing his affiliation with the Confederacy!

"_There is little point in lying to her anymore,_" Shmi said. "_Your allegiances will be revealed once this ordeal is finished with, anyway._"

Anakin scrunched his forehead and looked away. He knew his mother was right, but that didn't mean he had to accept it. He hadn't been able to see Padmé in nearly six months on account to him being bogged down in the Outer Rim sieges. This was doubly frustrating since he knew that the battles in which he partook were entirely inconsequential to the outcome of the war; all that mattered was the final showdown between Elegius and Sidious which was about to ensue. Was it too much to ask for him to be able to spend some time with his wife before this momentous battle took place? The universe seemed to be conspiring against him and Padmé, forcing them apart when they wanted nothing else but to be together.

"What if she no longer loves me when she finds out the truth?" Anakin asked, his voice sounding strained as he articulated his most intimate fear for the first time.

Shmi frowned, her larger-than-life hologram peering down at him with subtle yet nonetheless evident irritation. He knew that she had never approved of his relationship with Padmé, despite her steadfast insistence of the contrary. Shmi probably welcomed the prospect of Padmé breaking up with him once his double-agent identity was revealed. He could tell that she wanted him exclusively for herself as the idea of sharing him with Padmé vexed her to no end. In this respect, elements of his mother's love for him paralleled those of Sidious' obsession. The fact that he was the object of desire of the two most powerful individuals in the galaxy was a source of tremendous anxiety for Anakin.

"_Do not worry, my son,_" she said once again. "_Padmé will come to appreciate what you have done for the galaxy, even if she doesn't understand it at first._" Anakin was far from convinced by this assurance, but he wasn't bold enough to contradict her and risk inflaming his mother's irascible temperament. "_I am very proud of you, Ani,_" Shmi said, the corners of her luminous eyes crinkling with maternal affection. "_If Padmé does indeed love you, she will be proud of you as well. I am sure of it._"

Anakin smiled softly, grateful yet still far from persuaded. "Thank you," he intoned, attempting to wipe the conflict from his face.

Shmi reciprocated his smile, the radiance of her expression momentarily veneering the more frightening aspects of her countenance. "_Be brave,_" she instructed. "_Soon, all will be set right. Soon, we will be free at last._"

"Free at last," Anakin repeated with a slight sigh. He and his mother had been enslaved – whether it be to literal slave masters such as Watto or to the oppressive obligations bestowed upon them by the Jedi or by Plagueis, respectively – for the past twenty-two years. It was time to rectify that. Sidious would be defeated at last, and with him, their chains would be broken as well.

The only question, however, was what would happen to them when they were finally emancipated from their chains? Would all be set right, as Shmi predicted, or would they unwittingly unleash further chaos upon an already entropic galaxy?

* * *

_Two days later_

_Coruscant_

"Welcome back to Coruscant, Master Kenobi."

Anakin clasped his hands together in front of him as he stood by Obi-Wan's side in the center of the Council Chamber. Windu glanced at him briefly, yet offered no comparable greeting to him. Anakin was not surprised by this frigidity; he had come to expect such treatment, and was subsequently no longer offended. Ever since his father's death three years ago, the Council had ceased trusting him. Why this might be, Anakin hadn't the faintest idea. They couldn't possibly know about his treasonous affiliation with Elegius, otherwise he would have been expelled from the Order ages ago.

His standing within the Order, however, was ambiguous to put it lightly. He was technically still a Padawan under Obi-Wan's tutelage, but for all intents and purposes he was a Knight in his own right. He and Obi-Wan's relationship was uniquely unorthodox for a multitude of reasons. For one, Obi-Wan had allowed Anakin to cut off his Padawan braid two years ago, despite the Council's vehement protestations. Anakin – who nowadays was sporting long, unruly hair in accordance to Padmé's preferences – was therefore physically as well as mentally distinct from the other Padawan's at the Temple. He was also by far the oldest Padawan in the Order, as most of his peers had all been promoted due the exigence of the war.

Ahsoka had not been promoted, however. Her appointment as Obi-Wan's Padawan had been a further idiosyncrasy of his apprenticeship. It was unprecedented for a Jedi Knight to take on two Padawans, (as the Council had made abundantly clear ten years prior when Qui-Gon had attempted to take him on as an apprentice) yet the Council had approved the appointment regardless once again for the sake of the war effort. Ahsoka had been as much Anakin's Padawan as she had been Obi-Wan's, however. He had grown quite fond of Ahsoka – or as he endearingly referred to her, Snips – yet she had been forced to leave the Order a year prior in the wake of spurious accusations of murder. The unpleasant ordeal had only further congealed his already firm distaste for the Jedi Order and strengthened his resolve toward supporting his mother in spite of her morally dubious methods.

"Do you have anything to add, Skywalker?"

Anakin blinked a few times as he reoriented himself. Master Windu was looking at him expectedly, a perpetual frown of disapproval upon his lips.

"No, Master," Anakin said smoothly, assuming that Obi-Wan had finished his report on the Outer Rim sieges. He had nothing to add if that was indeed the case. Besides, he desperately wanted to leave so that he could see Padmé for the first time in what felt like eons.

Windu furrowed his brow and leaned forward. "You have been deployed for six months, and you have nothing to say?" he asked.

"That's correct," Anakin affirmed. "Master Kenobi provided a more than satisfactory summation," he added smartly.

Windu's frown deepened, visibly irked by Anakin's flippancy. He turned to look at Yoda who was reporting via hologram. The wizened Grand Master had left the Temple for Kashyyyk, further confirming Anakin's suspicions that Sidious was about to make his move. Out of all the Jedi, Sidious no doubt feared Yoda the most, and for good reason. Despite his diminutive stature and obvious senescence, Yoda was still a formidable opponent for Sidious.

"The Chancellor wishes to speak to you," Master Mundi said suddenly. "Do you have any idea what he could want from you?"

"I do not," Anakin said stiffly to the Cerean Master. "I will find out tomorrow morning."

Mundi creased his brow in concern, and Anakin could sense unease amongst the other members of the Council. They trusted neither Anakin nor the Chancellor, so it was unsurprising that they were ambivalent at the prospect of them meeting. Of course, Anakin too was dreading the meeting but for entirely different reasons. Sidious would reveal himself to him tomorrow, he was sure of it. How would he do it, however? Would he threaten him? Would he target Padmé in some way as Shmi alluded to? He would make sure that Padmé left the capital tonight with Obi-Wan in preparation for that terrifying possibility.

"_Inform the Council of the nature of your conversation with the Chancellor, you shall_," Yoda's flickering hologram instructed. "_Concerning, the Chancellor's activities have been of late._"

Anakin nodded and bowed before the Grand Master, he alone deserving of Anakin's respect. "Yes, Master," he said as he stood back upright. As he did so, he caught a glance of Windu's expression. The crotchety Master was staring down at the floor, his forehead lined with what Anakin interpreted as conflict. Probing Windu subtly through the Force, Anakin's suspicions were confirmed; he clearly was struggling with something. What was he thinking about?

Noticing Anakin's inquisitive gaze, Windu looked up and reassumed his neutral countenance. "You may be excused," he said shortly.

Anakin and Obi-Wan bowed, and Anakin spared Windu one last furtive glance before departing speedily alongside Obi-Wan. As the door closed behind them, however, Anakin couldn't spare anymore thought for Windu's curious behavior.

"Time to go home," he said, a smile emerging on the corner of his lips as he marched purposefully down the hallway toward the elevator.

"Time indeed," Obi-Wan agreed, struggling a bit to keep up with Anakin's long strides. "Are you sure you want me to come with you?" he asked when they came to a stop in front of the elevator.

"You have to," Anakin said as he pressed the button to the elevator. "Padmé needs to leave tonight. It's too risky for her to stay."

"Very well," Obi-Wan said.

"I'm entrusting you with her life," Anakin said seriously, giving Obi-Wan a stern look.

"You have no reason to worry, Anakin," Obi-Wan said reassuringly as the elevator doors opened. Stepping inside, Anakin took a steadying breath and nodded his head.

"I know," he said. "I'm just so tense right now. I doubt this is going to go as smoothly as she thinks." The 'she' in question being Shmi, of course. They never used her name unless they were sure they wouldn't be overheard.

Obi-Wan didn't attempt to convince him that his doubts were unfounded. That was one of the things Anakin appreciated about his friend: Obi-Wan never sought to put Anakin at ease like Shmi would do. He always was straight with him, and this time was no different. "I understand your fears," he said solemnly as they began to descend. "I can only hope that she knows what she's doing."

"Me too," Anakin said, licking his lips nervously.

"I wish you the best of luck tomorrow, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "I wish I could be coming with you."

Anakin turned to look at Obi-Wan just as the doors opened. "We've been through so much together," he said with a faint smile. "It feels weird doing this by myself."

Obi-Wan reciprocated Anakin's thin smile and placed a hand on his shoulder, much like how Qui-Gon used to do. "I will always be with you, Anakin," he said. "No matter what happens, remember that."

Anakin drooped his head and nodded, an ominous sense of dread creeping into his conscience. This was beginning to sound a lot like a goodbye. Perhaps both of them knew that it was entirely possible that this would be the last time they ever spoke to each other. The thought alone caused Anakin to choke up.

Sensing his fears, Obi-Wan removed his hand from Anakin's shoulder and pressed a button so as to close the elevator doors momentarily. "Anakin, talk to me," he said. "What's really the matter?"

Anakin looked up sharply to meet Obi-Wan's compassionate eyes. He was surprised by Obi-Wan's insight, although perhaps he shouldn't have been. After all, Obi-Wan knew him perhaps better than anyone. "I'm so afraid, Obi-Wan," Anakin confessed in a whisper.

"Of Sidious?" Obi-Wan asked.

"In part," Anakin said. "But also of her." Obi-Wan pursed his lips and nodded, instantly understanding what he was talking about. "Say this does work and Sidious is defeated, what then?" Anakin asked. "Will she stop being Elegius? Or is she really gone forever?"

Obi-Wan sighed as he shook his head. "I don't know, Anakin," he said, once again speaking candidly rather than telling him what he wanted to hear.

"I need her to come back," Anakin said. "I can't lose her like I lost my father."

"I understand your concern," Obi-Wan said. "Truly, I do," he added when Anakin looked skeptical. "But we can't dwell on this right now. Sidious must remain our sole focus. We can ask all these questions and more once he has been defeated." Anakin closed his eyes and nodded, not entirely sated by Obi-Wan's deferral. "Be brave, Anakin," Obi-Wan instructed, echoing Shmi's advice to him. Releasing his finger from the button, Obi-Wan allowed the doors to open once again. "This will all be over soon," he predicted confidently as he stepped out of the elevator.

Anakin dearly hoped he was right, yet deep down he knew it was naïve to be so optimistic. His problems would not cease with Sidious' demise, of this he was certain. In time, the darkness within his mother would have to be dealt with as well. Anakin could only hope that he would be strong enough to be able to extract it from her. And even if he wasn't, he owed it to his father to try.

* * *

Upon arriving at the apartment complex where Padmé lived, Anakin asked Obi-Wan to wait downstairs while he went up to see his wife for the first time in six months. As the elevator ascended to Padmé's level, Anakin had a brief flashback to three years ago when he, alongside Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, had met with Padmé for the first time in a decade. He had been so nervous then, wracked by jitters and anxiety. Today, he was afflicted with the same trepidation, yet for entirely different reasons.

He hoped Padmé would be awake when he arrived. It was quite late, and he knew she tended to go to bed early. He suspected she would be waiting for him, however. He had contemplated keeping his return a secret from her, but he had dispelled of his playful proclivities in the face of the severity of the situation. While he had enjoyed surprising her in the past, now he didn't have time for such frivolous exploits and consequently he had informed her beforehand that he would be coming.

Exiting the elevator, Anakin opened the front door with a glance at the retinal scan. Stepping inside, Anakin tiptoed down the hall toward the living room. Much to his disappointment, however, Padmé wasn't waiting for him on the couch like he had envisioned. Scanning the dormant room, Anakin's head swiveled back when he saw a glimmer of silver flash before his eyes.

There she was, standing on the patio with her back to him as she brushed her voluminous, curly hair. She was dressed in a shiny silken nightgown and was barefooted, making her appear even shorter than usual. Catching his breath, Anakin was momentarily immobilized as he appreciated her angelic beauty. She always had this effect on him, and he suspected she always would. To him, there was nothing more beautiful and pure in the galaxy than her; she truly was the most important thing to him, and nobody – Shmi included – would take precedence over her.

Regaining control over his limbs, Anakin made to walk over toward the patio when a droid stepped in his path, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

"Master Ani!" Theepio greeted jovially. "Welcome home!"

"Force, Threepio!" Anakin exclaimed, leaping backward in shock. "Where did you even come from?" he asked, removing his hand from his lightsaber and pressing it over his heart which was thumping rapidly.

"Anakin?"

Threepio turned around toward the voice, his joints squeaking as he did so. "Mistress Padmé, look who has returned!" he said.

Looking beyond Threepio, Anakin saw that Padmé had turned around to see him. When their eyes met, Padmé's face broke out into an enormous smile as she rushed toward him, pushing Threepio out of the way as she leapt into his arms.

"Oh, Ani!" she said as he accepted her bone-crushing embrace. Lifting her in the air, he spun them around fully, her bare toes skidding against the carpeted-ground as they rotated. Setting her down, Anakin kissed her on the mouth as tears welled up in his eyes.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, smiling broadly as he pulled away from her. He froze, however, when he felt her abdomen pressing against his. Looking down, he saw that her belly was protruding prominently. "Padmé?" he asked, his eyes widening in awe.

Padmé followed his gaze down and swallowed nervously. "Something wonderful happened," she said softly as she looked back up at him. "Ani, I'm pregnant."

Anakin blinked furiously as he processed this impossible statement. She was pregnant? But when? And how? Why hadn't she told him until now? This couldn't be happening. Of all times, not now…

"That's… wonderful," he managed to say, the blood draining from his face as the magnitude of the situation crashed down on him. He was going to be a father? Was this really happening? "When… when are you due?" he asked hoarsely.

"In a month, maybe less," Padmé informed him, her eyes wide as she gauged his reaction. "Are you… upset?"

Anakin shook his head at once, realizing how Padmé must have interpreted his reaction. "Of course not!" he exclaimed. "This is a happy moment," he said, placing a hand on her cheek tenderly as he pressed his forehead against hers. "The happiest moment of my life." Kissing her once more, Anakin began to feel dizzy as fear intermingled with euphoria. He had to make sure Padmé left tonight. He couldn't allow Sidious to threaten her, especially now that she was carrying their child. The stakes, which were already at atmospheric heights, had somehow managed to get even higher.

"Padmé, you have to leave the capital," he told her as he pulled away. "For you and the baby's safety."

"What are you talking about?" Padmé asked, her brow furrowed with confusion.

"You're in danger as long as you're here," he told her urgently. "I'll explain everything in time, but I need you to believe me for now."

"Ani, calm down," she said, rubbing his arms reassuringly. "I'm not in any danger."

"Yes, you are," he said. "I'm sorry for being so vague, but I need you to trust me."

"But Ani –"

Anakin turned away from her and reached into his robes, producing his comlink. Activating the device, he spoke into it: "Come on up," he said. "And hurry."

"_On my way,_" Obi-Wan responded at once.

Pocketing the comlink, he turned back to a bewildered Padmé. "Was that Obi-Wan?" she asked.

"He's going to protect you," Anakin said, taking a step toward her and placing his hand on her belly. "And the baby."

"Protect me from what?" Padmé asked, beginning to sound somewhat afraid.

"From Sidious," Anakin said ominously.

"The Sith?" Padmé said, placing her hand atop his on her bump. "Anakin, what is going on?"

Anakin opened his mouth to answer her, but stopped abruptly when he felt a kick. Eyes wide, Anakin looked down and felt simultaneous jolts of joy and fear. The joy that he was going to be a father was tainted with a crippling fear which he was all to familiar with: the fear of loss. He had lost too much in his life – his father having left him three years ago, and in a certain sense, his mother had left him thirteen years ago, never to return truly – and because of that, he was determined not to lose this child as well.

"I'm not going to lose you, Padmé," he said, articulating himself as best he could. He had never been good with words like she was, but he needed to try. He needed her to understand even if he couldn't explain the context in full. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but I need you to know that I am only asking this of you because I love you. I love you and our child so, so much. That's why I need you to leave, so you can be safe."

Padmé parted her lips, yet was prevented from saying anything when the doorbell sounded. "That must be Obi-Wan," Anakin said, releasing his hand from Padmé's belly and turning around. "I'll be right back."

Upon admitting Obi-Wan entry, he returned quickly to find that Padmé hadn't budged, a perplexed expression still imprinted on her face. "Hello, Padmé," Obi-Wan greeted, his eyes widening as his gaze drifted south. "Oh dear," he said.

"I demand to know what's going on," Padmé said to him authoritatively, completely ignoring Obi-Wan.

"Padmé, please –"

"No! You can't just show up after six months and tell me I have to leave my own home without telling me why!"

"I told you why!" Anakin said. "You're in danger here."

"But why?"

"I'm sorry for interjecting, but –"

"Not now, Obi-Wan," Padmé snapped.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin. "Did you know about this?" he asked, gesturing his head toward Padmé.

"I, erm… I just found out," Anakin mumbled.

"I see," Obi-Wan said, licking his lips awkwardly as he looked back at Padmé. "Well… congratulations," he added faintly.

"Will someone tell me why I'm supposedly in danger?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips irritably.

Anakin bit his tongue and looked away toward the patio. He had known this wasn't going to be easy given Padmé's characteristic intransigence. "You might as well tell her, Anakin." Anakin swiveled his head back toward Obi-Wan. "She's going to find out eventually."

"Find what out?" Padmé asked, yet Anakin ignored her.

"If you don't tell her, I will," Obi-Wan threatened.

"Obi-Wan!"

"It's been long enough, don't you think?" he said. "She deserves to know, and she deserves to hear it from you."

Anakin tried to offer a rebuttal, but his voice caught in his throat. He knew that Obi-Wan was right; as soon as he brought her to Mustafar, she would learn the truth. It would be much better for him to tell her his secret himself so as to prevent any misunderstandings. Even so, he was afraid. Would she understand, or would she be horrified of what he had done? He was a Separatist! She had been unknowingly married to an enemy of the state for three years!

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said sternly. "You will regret it if you don't tell her."

Anakin faltered at that. Obi-Wan was a man who knew all about regret. He had pushed away the love of his life, ostensibly to protect her but in truth because he was too afraid to commit himself and take a leap into the unknown. While Anakin's situation was different, the underlying dilemma was synonymous: he had to make that leap of faith which Obi-Wan had been too craven to take, otherwise he might lose Padmé just like he had lost Satine.

"Alright," he said heavily. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair and turned to face his wife. "I'm going to tell you everything, but not until you promise me to leave with Obi-Wan after I've finished."

Padmé frowned, glancing at Obi-Wan momentarily as she considered this request. "Very well," she said eventually.

Anakin nodded and looked down at the carpet. "Why don't you take a seat," he suggested, his voice sounding somewhat muted as he spoke down the floor. "This might take a while."

* * *

_Mustafar_

Steam billowed upward in brumous clouds as Shmi descended from the ramp of her shuttle. Standing at attention on the platform was Maul himself, his arms rigidly by his sides as he awaited her. A wave of heat hit Shmi directly in the face as she approached, the intensity of which causing her to perspire instantaneously. Mustafar was a miserable planet.

"Welcome, Lord Elegius," Maul greeted as she stepped off the ramp.

"Maul," Shmi said, bowing her head slightly to him. While for all intents and purpose, Shmi was Maul's superior, they didn't treat each other as such. Out of respect for her companion's fragile ego, she allowed him to maintain the illusion of equality between them. But that's all it was: an illusion. Shmi was the one in charge in this relationship.

Maul spun around as Shmi fell into step with him. The two began walking purposefully off the platform and toward an elevated complex constructed over a flowing stream of lava, a contingent of interchangeable battle droids escorting them on both sides.

"When will Kenobi be arriving with the senator?" Maul asked.

"Hopefully soon," Shmi told him. She couldn't deny that she was eager to meet Amidala once again. She wanted to get to know the woman who her son was so… infatuated with. She wouldn't be on Mustafar for long, however. If all went to plan, she would be descending on Coruscant with the entire Separatist Fleet within a matter of days, ready to end Sidious' dominion once and for all.

"And your son? Any news from him?"

"Not yet," Shmi said as they reached the complex. The droids stepped aside, permitting them entry into the mercifully air conditioned building. The durasteel blastdoors closed behind them with a clang, sealing them in the austere fortress. "He will contact me when it is time, however." Maul nodded and said nothing as they continued walking down the featureless hallway, alone now that the droids had left them. "I sense something amiss with you, my friend," Shmi commented after a while. "What is bothering you?"

Shmi saw Maul glance at her out of the corner of her eye, his impassive yellow eyes revealing nothing. "I would like to know your plans for after you defeat Sidious," he said.

Shmi inhaled sharply, having dreaded this question. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure, but she couldn't have Maul know that. She needed him to think as if she had everything plotted out in meticulous precision much like Sidious would have done. "You will see," she said vaguely.

"Very well," Maul acquiesced, although she could tell he was far from satisfied with her non-answer. "I take it the Confederacy will not be a part of your plans in the future, I presume?"

Shmi snorted at this. "You are quite correct," she said. She despised the Separatists and everything they stood for, and Maul was quite aware of that fact. Once Sidious was defeated, the war would be over and with it, the Separatist cause would be expunged.

"What will that mean for me?"

Shmi stopped walking and turned to face Maul. He stopped as well and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I am not a fool, Elegius," he said.

"I know it," Shmi said, bemused.

"You intend to dispel yourself of me once the Separatists are eliminated, isn't that right?"

"Not in the slightest," Shmi said at once.

"Then what are you plans for me?"

Shmi hesitated. Once again, she didn't have a well-defined answer for him. What would Maul's fate be? She hadn't the faintest idea. "You pose no threat to me, Maul," she said icily. "Ergo, I have no need to eliminate you."

"You are underestimating me," Maul growled. "I do remind you that your victory was far from decisive the last time we dueled."

Shmi narrowed her eyes contemptuously at her mutinous companion. "You are no match for me, Maul, and you know it," she said in a low voice. "If I wanted to destroy you, I could do it in an instant."

Shmi's eyes darted down when Maul's right hand twitched. "Remember that it was I who bestowed that weapon to you," she said, gesturing toward his belt over which his hand was hovering.

Maul lowered his hand slowly away from his lightsaber. "You don't own me, Elegius," he said.

"Not at all, but I do command your loyalty," she shot back. "After everything I have done for you, I would expect some trust."

"Trust goes both ways, Elegius."

"I trust you!"

"Then why won't you tell me your plans?"

"I will tell you when you need to know."

Far from satisfied with this assurance, Maul clenched his jaw and looked away down the hallway. "You are making a grave mistake, Elegius," he warned. "You are going down the very path you swore to avoid."

"Is that so?" Shmi asked, eyes narrowed.

"I know what you want, even if you don't," Maul said, pointing a finger at her chest.

"I only want one thing," Shmi said upon slapping Maul's finger aside. "To defeat Sidious."

Maul shook his head. "If that were true, you would have done so long ago," he said. "You're more powerful than him. You could have killed him years ago."

"What are you suggesting, Maul?" Shmi asked.

"You want power," he said simply.

"I have power," she countered.

"No you don't," Maul said provocatively. "You live in the shadows, like I used to do. I understand the hunger. The desire. You yearn for something more real. Something tangible."

Shmi shook her head vigorously. "You're wrong," she said.

"I see the glint in your eyes," Maul said, leaning down so that their faces were merely inches apart. "You and Sidious are more alike than you are different."

Shmi snapped. Thrusting her hands out, she pushed Maul away from her with brutal force. Slamming into the opposite wall with a clang, Maul was suspended spread-eagle. Taking two steps toward him, Shmi held up an accusatory finger to his throat. "I am _nothing _like Sidious," she growled. "You don't know the first thing about me, Maul."

Maul snarled, his muscles straining as he struggled to extricate himself from her ironclad grip. "It is you who doesn't understand yourself," he said through gritted teeth.

Shmi's vision was tinged with red as prodigious fury bubbled up within her at this unjust recrimination. Darkness swirled around her tempestuously as her hands acted on their own accord. Bright blue electricity coursed from her fingertips and wrapped itself around Maul's immobilized limbs. Shmi's shriek of fury corresponded with Maul's shout of pain, producing a horrific discord in the reverberative metal hallway.

* * *

_Coruscant_

Anakin grimaced as he looked away quickly from Padmé's incredulous gaze. Standing up abruptly, he strode away a few steps as he took deep, stabilizing breaths.

"I can't believe this," he heard Padmé say. "All this time, you've been lying to me!"

Anakin pressed his hand to his forehead as he struggled to keep his cool. His mother was angry, furious even. This in and of itself wasn't uncommon – Shmi had a notoriously irascible temperament, after all. The timing of this particular outburst, however, couldn't have been worse.

Anakin's connection with his mother hadn't abated over the past three years. He still was able to feel what she felt even if they were lightyears away from one another. He had grown much better at identifying and controlling the exogenous emotions. No longer could Shmi's anger cause Anakin to lash out at people like Padmé. That being said, he was having an especially difficult time keeping himself in check this time. He could scarcely remember a time when his mother had been more angry than she was at this instant. What had happened to inspire such prodigious rage in her?

"Anakin, say something!"

Now was not the time to ponder this, however. His marriage was on the line. He couldn't allow his mother's fury interfere with what was supposed to be his big confession.

"What do you want me to say?" Anakin asked brusquely as he turned back around to face Padmé. "That I'm sorry?"

"Why would you do this? Why would you betray the Republic like this?"

"We haven't betrayed the Republic," Obi-Wan insisted, seated on the couch opposite Padmé. "Our loyalties remain with the Senate, just not to the Chancellor."

"And I'm supposed to believe that Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord?" Padmé asked acerbically.

"Yes," Anakin said curtly. "Because it's the truth."

"What proof do you have?"

"He killed my father, Padmé!" Anakin exploded, causing her to shy away from him in fright. Cursing under his breath, Anakin dug his fingernails into his thigh and turned away once again. He needed to calm down. He needed to regain control over himself…

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth," Obi-Wan said calmly. "Palpatine _is _Darth Sidious."

"So what?" Padmé said. "Your mother is just as terrible, Anakin! How could you side with her over the Jedi?"

A spark of fury ignited within him at this accusation. "My mother is not like Sidious," Anakin growled, the words leaving his mouth before he even realized he was saying them.

"I saw her, Anakin. She killed dozens of innocent Jedi without compunction!"

"The Jedi are not innocent," Anakin snapped. "They are just as guilty as Sidious is for my father's death. They don't deserve my respect nor my sympathy."

"I can't believe this!" Padmé said, standing up abruptly, or at least as abruptly as a pregnant woman could, that is. "I can't believe you would do such a thing!"

Anakin slowly rotated his neck to look at her. When their eyes met, Padmé's widened at once and she took a step back. "I did what I had to do," he said in a voice so low it no longer sounded like his own.

"Y-your eyes," she stammered.

"You will go with Obi-Wan to Mustafar," Anakin ordered, his whole arm quivering with unsolicited rage as he pointed a finger at her. "You will be safe there."

"What have you become?" Padmé asked, sounding utterly horrified.

That gave Anakin pause as he remembered asking the same question to his mother on Geonosis three years ago. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi-Wan stand up as well, a similarly petrified expression imprinted on his face. "Anakin?" he asked nervously. "Are you okay?"

The whole room seemed to be spinning. Lowering his hand, Anakin stumbled a bit as he attempted to walk toward the couch to sit down. "I… I'm so… angry," he managed to say.

"Anakin?"

He was falling, succumbing to the fury he had kept at bay until this point. He heard someone shout out his name, but the sound was drowned out by a shriek of pain and the crackle of electricity.

"_You dare disrespect me?_"

"_I'm only telling you the truth you don't want to hear._"

"_Shut your mouth!_"

"_The truth is terrible, isn't it?_"

Blue light tinged his sightless vision as an ominous, unfamiliar cackle reverberated in his skull.

_I don't have to fight you, Shmi Skywalker._

_In time you will fight for me._

Anakin was yelling, pleading for that horrific laugh to cease. The crackle of electricity was suddenly quelled as Anakin felt himself grow cold with fear. It permeated deep past his skin and into his very soul. Absolute, unmitigated fear washed over him and consumed him. Never before had he experienced something as terrifying as this.

"Anakin!"

_You will give me what I need, Shmi Skywalker._

"Anakin wake up!"

_Because of you, the Jedi Order will finally fall and the Sith will rule the galaxy!_

"Anakin, are you all right?"

Anakin's eyes flew open, but the piercing cold did not abate. He was lying supine on the carpet in Padmé's apartment, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. Obi-Wan was kneeled by his side while Padmé was standing over him, one hand rested on her belly and the other held over her mouth.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin's blue lips quivered as he struggled into a seated position with Obi-Wan's assistance. Resting his back against the base of the couch, Anakin waited for his breathing to decelerate before responding.

"She's afraid," he said finally, his voice sounding alarmingly faint to his ears.

"Shmi?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded and closed his eyes, the sensation of abject terror only now beginning to relent.

"Of what?" Obi-Wan asked, his bright blue eyes wide with concern.

"Of herself," Anakin answered at once.


	21. The Trap

_Coruscant_

"Ready to go?"

Padmé nodded without looking up at him. Obi-Wan pursed his lips and turned away from Padmé to see Anakin watching them from a few feet away, a neutral expression belying the internal tumult he must be experiencing. While Padmé had agreed to go with Obi-Wan to Mustafar, it seemed she hadn't forgiven Anakin for what he had done.

Obi-Wan had spent the night meditating on the patio as he contemplated everything that had happened last night. He had been as perturbed and frightened as Padmé had been when Anakin's eyes had shifted yellow. He had never seen his friend look like that before. Anakin had tried explaining to him that it was a consequence of Shmi's actions, not of his own, but Obi-Wan was concerned nonetheless. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to send Anakin to Sidious as bait, especially not when he was in such a volatile and compromised state. There was nothing he could do, however. Anakin had committed himself to this, and Obi-Wan hadn't even bothered trying to change his friend's mind.

As he turned around and escorted Padmé out the front door toward the elevator, therefore, Obi-Wan got the funny feeling that he could very well be saying goodbye to Anakin – or at least the Anakin he knew – forever. Stopping in the doorway, he looked back at Anakin who had closed his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Good luck, old friend," Obi-Wan said to him.

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan and nodded. "Keep her safe," he said.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin for a moment longer before walking away, the door closing shut behind him. Following after Padmé, Obi-Wan stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. No doubt, she was angry at him as well, but fortunately he wasn't the target of her wrath. At least not yet, that is.

The silence was oppressive as the pair made their way to Obi-Wan's speeder and drove off toward the hangar where Padmé kept her ship. All the while, Obi-Wan couldn't help but sneak furtive glances at Padmé's pregnant belly. The revelation that Anakin was going to be a father had yet to fully sink in for him. It was all so surreal. In a way, that meant that he was going to be an uncle. Now that was something Obi-Wan had never expected to happen.

The awkward, yet mercifully painless silence was finally broken, however, when they arrived at the landing pad and were greeted by Padmé's head of security, Captain Typho.

"What is he doing here?" Obi-Wan hissed to Padmé as he parked the speeder.

"I told him to prepare my ship," Padmé said coldly. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Oh," Obi-Wan said, feeling somewhat foolish. "Well, can you get him to leave?"

Padmé didn't reply, electing instead to smile at Typho as he approached. "Morning, Captain," she greeted as she struggled to get out of the speeder.

"Let me help you, my lady," Typho offered at once. Walking around the speeder, Typho held the door open and extended his hand to Padmé.

"Thank you," Padmé said as she rose to her feet with the Captain's assistance.

"Master Kenobi, this is a surprise," Typho said, looking up from Padmé toward him.

Obi-Wan smiled woodenly as he stepped out of the speeder as well and shut the door behind him.

"Obi-Wan is going to accompany me," Padmé interjected on his behalf.

"For what purpose?" Typho asked suspiciously.

"For her protection," Obi-Wan said at once.

"Protection?" Typho repeated incredulously. "But I am the head of security! Why was I not made aware of this arrangement?"

Obi-Wan faltered and looked to Padmé for help. "This is a personal matter, Captain," she said shortly. "I appreciate your concern, but it is unwarranted."

Typho frowned and placed his hands on his hips. "At least tell me where you are going, my lady," he requested.

Padmé hesitated for a moment. "You're just going to have to trust me on this," she said finally.

"But the Queen –"

"Doesn't need to know about this," Padmé interrupted. "I'm fine, Captain, really. You don't need to worry about me."

"My job is to worry about you," Typho quipped with a faint smile.

"And you perform that job admirably," Padmé said, reciprocating the smile.

"You don't have to worry about her safety," Obi-Wan contributed. "She will be safe with me."

Typho glanced at him and nodded. "Very well," he said a bit begrudgingly. "At least allow me to assist you with your luggage, my lady."

Half an hour later, Typho finally left them after they had finished loading Padmé's bags onto the ship. Threepio, whom they had decided to bring along, had been unable to lift the heavy luggage, much to Obi-Wan's chagrin. In light of Threepio's seemingly perpetual uselessness, Obi-Wan had simply had the droid deactivated and stored on the ship.

"Why do you need so many clothes?" Obi-Wan asked through gritted teeth as he carried the last cumbersome suitcase to the top of the ramp.

"You refused to tell me how long I would have to be away for," Padmé told him with a frown. Conceding the point, Obi-Wan shrugged as he lugged the bag down the hall toward the main hold as Padmé followed behind him. Dropping the bag down next to its identical counterparts, Obi-Wan exhaled loudly as he wiped his brow with the back of hand.

"Well, that's finally done," he said. "Shall we get going?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Pardon?" Obi-Wan asked as he turned around to face her, caught off guard by this abrupt interrogation.

"I would have thought you of all people would have some scruples," she said icily. "You know as well as I do how terrible Anakin's mother is. Why join her?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, but no explanation came to him. He knew nothing he said would mollify Padmé regardless. Instead, he decided to deflect. "Do you know why Anakin did it?" he asked.

Padmé's brow twitched, having not expected her question to be met with another question. "No," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I don't."

"He did it for you," Obi-Wan told her.

"For me?" Padmé repeated skeptically, her eyebrows shooting upward.

"You're the most important person to him in the entire galaxy," Obi-Wan said. "His mother, while despicable, is at least understanding. She wants Anakin to be happy, and even though she doesn't trust you, she therefore endorses his relationship with you. The Jedi could never offer him that."

"She doesn't trust me?" Padmé asked nervously.

"Don't take it personally, she doesn't trust anyone but Anakin," Obi-Wan grumbled as he began walking toward the cockpit.

"So you mean to tell me Shmi knows about our marriage as well?" Padmé asked as she followed him.

"Er, not exactly, no," Obi-Wan said as he passed through a sliding door into the cockpit. "She knows about your relationship, but not your marriage."

"What?" Padmé asked, thoroughly perplexed.

"Anakin only accepted Shmi's demand that he join her on the condition that he be allowed to be with you," Obi-Wan explained as he sat down in the pilot's seat. "Shmi folded, but only after getting Anakin to promise not to marry you right away. She was concerned he was moving too fast with you."

"So he defied her?" Padmé asked, groaning slightly as she fell down into the copilot's chair beside him.

"He did," Obi-Wan affirmed as he began the ignition process.

Padmé was silent for a moment as she assimilated this information. "I can't condone what he did," she said finally. "What either of you did, for that matter. You understand that, don't you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head and turned away from the control panel to look at her in the eye. "What Anakin and I did isn't wrong," he said definitively. "We have not betrayed the Jedi nor the Republic."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Padmé asked bitingly.

Obi-Wan frowned and looked away out the front window. "If all goes to plan, Sidious will be defeated within the next few days and the galaxy will finally be free of the scourge that is the Sith," he said. "We will bring peace to the galaxy. Isn't that what you want?"

"Obi-Wan, you can't be this naïve!" Padmé said. "The woman you have aligned yourself with is evil!"

"Perhaps, but not in the same way Sidious is," Obi-Wan countered.

"And that's relevant how?"

"Because Shmi's evil is not intrinsic like Sidious' is," Obi-Wan explained. "Shmi is a damaged person, but she is still a person. Sidious is a monster, pure and simple."

"The lesser of two evils is still evil, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan groaned and craned his neck upward. Arguing against Padmé was like fighting against a brick wall; it was clear that she wasn't going to budge an inch on this. Returning his attention to the control panel, he rechecked the settings assiduously, more so to give him something to do rather than because they actually needed to be checked. All the while, he could feel Padmé's judgmental eyes on him, causing him immense discomfort.

"She's not all bad," he said eventually as he leaned back in his seat, satisfied that they were ready to take off. "Whenever she's talking to Anakin, she's downright pleasant. It's with other people where you see the demon within."

Padmé didn't respond to this, which suited Obi-Wan fine. Beginning the ignition sequence, Obi-Wan piloted the starfighter off of the landing pad and into Coruscant's busy sky. Upon ascending past the traffic and into the upper atmosphere, Padmé finally spoke. "What happened to her?" she asked him. "When I first met her on Tatooine, she was so hospitable and kind."

Obi-Wan sighed as he glanced at her momentarily before returning his attention to the front window. "She's a single-minded person, much like Anakin is," he said, thinking of how best to explain the enigma that was Shmi Skywalker. "She only ever cared about two people: Anakin and Qui-Gon. I think losing both of them for so long damaged her beyond repair."

Once again, the two fell into silence. As Obi-Wan finagled with the hyperdrive coordinates, he contemplated the veracity of what he had told Padmé. Sure, Shmi was a damaged person, but was it true that she was so far gone that she could never be redeemed? Was it possible for Shmi to be salvaged from the fiend that was Elegius? If anyone would be able to do this, it would be Anakin, but Obi-Wan was pessimistic. After all, Anakin had had three years to help her, but it seemed she had only gotten worse, not better, in that time span. The vicissitudes of her temperaments had grown more volatile and her proclivity to violence had increased. If Anakin couldn't save her, no one could.

* * *

Anakin moped around in the apartment for a few hours after Obi-Wan and Padmé had left. He wasn't scheduled to meet with the Chancellor for a little while and he wanted to give Obi-Wan enough time to leave Coruscant before he went to the Senate. Even so, Anakin was growing antsy cooped up in Padmé's apartment like this.

His anxiety about meeting face to face with Sidious intermingled with his depression induced by Padmé's negative reaction to his confession. He had suspected she would have been appalled, but he had been crushed nonetheless. While she had fortunately agreed to allow Obi-Wan to take her to Mustafar, their fight was far from resolved. Would she ever forgive him? He hoped so. After all, it wasn't as if he personally had done anything wrong. Her objection was with Shmi, not with him. Perhaps if his mom ceased being a psychopath, he would be forgiven.

Anakin shook his head and snorted humorlessly. That wasn't likely to happen, but he could at least dream. A small part of him held out hope that his true mother would return once Sidious was defeated, but logic insisted otherwise. Anakin was never one to listen to logic, however.

Deciding that he had procrastinated long enough, Anakin ceased pacing and took a deep breath. Marching toward the front door, Anakin felt his throat constricting with fearful anticipation. Despite his mother's assurances, Anakin couldn't help but feel as if he was walking into a trap. From what little he knew of Sidious, he knew that the Sith was as cunning as he was sadistic. Was it possible Sidious already knew of Anakin's allegiance to Elegius? If so, what would the nature of this meeting truly be? Would Sidious simply kill him or would he try to convince Anakin to change sides? And what should Anakin do if Sidious attempted this latter possibility? If he refused, Sidious would likely torture him or worse. He could pretend to accept, but he doubted Sidious would be fooled if he tried this.

Endless possible outcomes continued to swirl around Anakin's mind as he drove toward the Senate building. In a daze, Anakin found himself alighting from his speeder all too soon. How had he made it here so quickly? Of all the times for traffic to be lenient.

Anakin was having a very difficult time breathing as he made his way toward the elevator. He maintained an air of calm as Obi-Wan was so adept at doing, yet internally he was quaking with fear. With each floor the elevator passed, Anakin grew more and more sure that this meeting was not going to go the way he hoped it would. What if he died today? He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Padmé on such poor terms if that did indeed happen.

With that ominous thought, the doors to the elevator slid open. Straightening his robes, Anakin strode forth toward the Chancellor's office. Identifying himself to the receptionist, Anakin was permitted entry. Walking through the double doors and past a pair of grandiose golden statues, Anakin caught his breath when he saw Palpatine waiting for him at his desk.

"Ah, Anakin," he said genially. "Welcome."

Descending a brief flight of red-carpeted stairs, Anakin bowed stiffly before the Chancellor. "Thank you, your Excellency," he said woodenly.

Palpatine smiled thinly at him and placed his hands down on the table in front of him. "You must be wondering why I called you back here so abruptly," he said, no longer making eye contact as he peered down at his spindly fingers.

"I was," Anakin said cautiously.

Palpatine looked up from the table languidly and smirked. "I have been monitoring you closely over the past few years," he said. "Very closely."

"Is that so?" Anakin asked, instantly on guard. "What for?"

"Don't play dumb, Skywalker," he said, his voice suddenly sounding caustic and guttural, nothing like the euphonious drawl of Palpatine.

Anakin dropped the façade of ignorance as well. "What do you want from me?" he asked boldly.

Palpatine shook his head as he stood upright. "From you? Nothing," he said. "But I would appreciate an explanation."

"An explanation?" Anakin repeated, furrowing his brow in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"The Republic and the Jedi have done nothing but help you, and yet you chose to betray them." Palpatine said. "Why? Why would you forfeit everything?"

Anakin swallowed hard as fear permeated his confusion. It sounded as if Palpatine knew the truth, but why was he framing it in this way? He was still talking as if he was the Chancellor, not a Sith Lord. "You don't care about the Republic nor the Jedi," Anakin said, pointing a finger at Palpatine.

Palpatine scoffed at this. "You are accusing the Chancellor or not caring about his own Republic?" Sidious asked incredulously.

"You're not the Chancellor, you're a Sith!" Anakin exploded, anger bubbling to the surface in response to Palpatine's intentionally obtuse behavior.

"Is that what she told you?" Palpatine asked. "That I am a Sith Lord by the name of Darth Sidious?"

"That's what you are," Anakin said, dropping his accusatory finger and wrapping his hand around his lightsaber. "You can drop the act, Sidious. I know who you are."

"She has corrupted you, my boy," Palpatine said. "The only Sith is Elegius. You have allowed her to ensnare you with her lies."

"My mother is not a Sith!" Anakin bellowed.

"Young fool," Palpatine lamented. "She has manipulated you. Can't you see that?"

"You're the one who manipulates," Anakin said. "You're the master at that."

"The world of politics can be fickle, I concede as much," Palpatine said with a blasé shrug. "That being said, my sins are hardly comparable to those of Elegius."

"Stop lying!" Anakin roared, drawing his father's lightsaber and activating it. Intuitively, he knew it was pointless to threaten Palpatine, but he was too angry to think straight.

"Do you intend to kill me?" Palpatine asked.

"I would certainly like to," Anakin growled.

Palpatine shook his head once again, a smug smirk on his lips as he eyed Anakin's green blade without a hint of apprehension. "Darth Sidious is a figment of your imagination, my child," he said in a low voice. "He was concocted by your mother to justify her ruthless ambition."

"You lie," Anakin said through gritted teeth.

"I will give you this one opportunity at redemption," Palpatine said, placing his hands casually behind his back. "Pledge yourself back to the Republic. Help us defeat Elegius once and for all. Only then will this horrible war come to an end. I beg you to see reason, Anakin."

"The war will only end when you are dead," Anakin said viciously. "My mother will destroy you, Sidious. You don't stand a chance."

Palpatine sighed and slouched his shoulders. "So be it," he said heavily.

Just then, the doors to Palpatine's office flew open. Lightsaber still in hand, Anakin spun around to see half a dozen Jedi Masters striding toward him, Windu himself leading the charge. Upon seeing Anakin's active lightsaber, the Master Jedi stopped and held up his mechanical hand to his colleagues.

"What are you doing here?" Anakin asked to Windu.

"Drop your weapon, Skywalker," Windu ordered.

"You don't understand –"

"Drop it. Now."

Anakin hesitated as his eyes scanned the other Jedi Masters standing behind Windu. They were all eyeing him with suspicion – contempt even. What was going on? "This isn't what it looks like," Anakin said as he deactivated his lightsaber and dropped it to the ground. "Master Windu, I can explain."

"Anakin Skywalker, you are under arrest for treason and conspiracy against the Chancellor of the Republic," Windu intoned.

"What!?"

Windu flourished his hand, summoning Anakin's discarded lightsaber to his hand. "Shackle him," he ordered.

As a pair of Jedi approached him, Anakin took a step back and held his hands up. "You're making a mistake! He's the Sith! He's Sidious!"

"There's no point in resisting, Skywalker," Windu said coldly.

"You're not listening to me!"

Behind him, he heard Palpatine chuckle. "We're listening to you," he said. "But unlike you, we are not gullible fools. The Chancellor of the Republic a Sith Lord? It's preposterous!"

Anakin shook his head vigorously as he spun around to face Palpatine. "You lying snake!" he yelled. As he attempted to lunge at Palpatine who was still standing behind his desk, Anakin was restrained by the two Jedi at his sides who grabbed either one of his arms. "Let me go!" he shrieked. "Get your hands off me!"

The sound of several lightsabers being activated behind him caused Anakin to cease struggling. Breathing heavily, Anakin glared back at Palpatine furiously. "You won't get away with this," he threatened.

"I already have," Palpatine said, his dark eyes glinting with a sinister element. Palpatine met Anakin's gaze for a moment longer before looking up toward Windu who was standing atop the stairs. "Take him away," he said with a wave of his hand.

* * *

_Mustafar_

Shmi massaged her temples wearily as she slouched back in her seat at the head of the conference table. The room was mercifully empty, having threatened the slimy Separatist leaders with death if they encroached on her much-needed privacy.

She had lost her temper with Maul. It had been a mistake, she knew it, but even so the outburst had been somewhat cathartic for her. Maul had grown too comfortable with questioning her over the years. It was important for her to remind him of his place.

That being said, losing her cool like that had revealed her vulnerability. Maul had exposed her greatest fear: that she and Sidious were more alike than they were different. The closer Shmi got to her ultimate encounter with Sidious, the more tangible and salient that fear became. What if Maul was right? What if the ends didn't truly justify the means? What if her lust for power had corrupted her just like it had Sidious?

Maul's torture had been cut short when she'd collapsed. For the first time in over ten years, the darkness had overwhelmed her. This time, however, she hadn't had Plagueis to rescue her. She had managed to extricate herself from the darkness on her own, but she couldn't deny that she had been shaken by the ordeal.

_I don't have to fight you, Shmi Skywalker._

_In time you will fight for me._

That had been what Sidious had told her all those years ago on Jakku, and those were the words which continued to reverberate in her mind. Was it possible that Plagueis had misinterpreted Sidious' intentions all along? Could it be that she had been his true target and not Anakin? Was it possible that by turning to the dark side and succumbing to her passions she had in fact aided Sidious more than she had hurt him?

That couldn't possibly be true. If Sidious' plans revolved around her turning to the dark side, he must have made a terrible miscalculation. She wasn't going to use her powers to help him. She was going to use them to destroy him! But what if Sidious knew something she didn't? What if he was using her to achieve his ambitions without her even knowing it?

Shmi was disrupted from her ruminations when the door to the conference room slid open. Looking up sharply, Shmi wrapped her hand around the darksaber in fury. "I told you to stay away!" she bellowed.

Entering the room, however, was not a Separatist, but Maul. He looked a little worse for wear, his black robes were hanging loosely around his limbs and his pale-yellow eyes were bloodshot as if he had been awake for days on end. Hobbling forward, Maul grasped the back of the chair on the opposite end of the table before speaking. "They're here," he said hoarsely.

"They?" Shmi repeated, blinking in confusion.

"Kenobi and the Senator," Maul clarified.

"Oh!" Shmi exclaimed, having forgotten all about Obi-Wan's impending arrival. "I'll be right there," she added, jumping to her feet. As she marched toward the exit, Maul shied away from her in fright, causing her to hesitate. "I'm… I'm sorry for torturing you," she said woodenly as she came to a stop a few feet in front of him.

Maul stared at her silently for a few moments before nodding. "I understand," he said, bowing his head. "Fear will cause us to do terrible things."

Shmi narrowed her eyes at Maul, unsure whether to interpret this as a slight against her or not. "Stay here," she ordered, deciding to disregard the comment. "I will be back." With that, she turned away from Maul and strode out of the conference room to greet her two guests.

* * *

_Coruscant_

"You're making a mistake, Windu. You need to listen to me!"

Windu said nothing, electing instead to scowl at Anakin from behind the bars as a pair of Jedi Temple Guards thrust Anakin into a cell. As the door closed behind him, Anakin grabbed onto the bars and pressed his forehead against the cool metal.

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

"We heard the whole conversation, Skywalker," Windu said icily. "You confessed to conspiracy."

"Against the Sith, not the Republic!"

"You honestly think I will believe that Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord?" Windu asked, arching his eyebrow dismissively.

"Yes!" Anakin exclaimed.

Windu shook his head and took a step toward him. "I was a fool for ever allowing Jinn to permit you into the Order," he said. "And I was a fool to ever trust your mother."

"My mother is ten times the Jedi you'll ever be," Anakin spat acrimoniously.

"Shmi Skywalker is the Sith we have been looking for for over two decades," Windu said, turning away now as he began to pace in front of Anakin's cell. "She created the persona of Sidious to detract attention from herself. I can't believe it took me so long to realize it."

"She's not a Sith! Palpatine is!"

"I knew it. Deep down, I think I always knew it," Windu mused, ignoring Anakin's protestations. "But I was too weak. Too attached. I knew it was her on Geonosis, but I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that my own Padawan would turn against me. That she would slice off my own hand!"

"You're not going to get away with this," Anakin said, gripping the bars so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "When my mother finds out what you did, she will destroy you and Sidious."

"She will try, but we will be ready for her," Windu said ominously. With that, Windu spared him no last look as he spun around and strode away, leaving Anakin alone in his cell.

Grinding his teeth, Anakin pushed away from the bars of his cell. Backtracking, Anakin took a deep breath as he willed himself to remain calm. He had to keep faith that his mother would come to rescue him. He had no doubt that she would be capable of this considering how furious she would be. When Shmi was angry, the magnitude of her raw power was unprecedented. The only question, however, was whether or not she would be consumed by her fury. Could this ordeal be the push which sent her over the edge in to full-fledged, irreversible darkness?

Dropping to the ground, Anakin exhaled loudly as he dug his fingernails into his temples. Back pressed against the back wall, Anakin sprawled his legs outward as he attempted to focus on the tranquil hum of the Force rather than the incessant swirl of doubts and fears revolving around his conscience. He had to remain optimistic and not dwell on the potential ramifications of his mother coming to rescue him. He would deal with that problem if it arose. For now, he needed to get out of this alive.

* * *

_Mustafar_

Standing on the landing platform, Shmi clasped her hands together behind her back as she waited for Obi-Wan to disembark. Quirking an eyebrow, she noted that this was the same ship she had seen thirteen years ago on Tatooine. This was the ship which had taken Anakin away from her for a whole decade. The lustrous material of the sleek vessel reflected the red of the lava below whilst steam billowed upward, obfuscating the ramp which was slowly unfurling.

Holding a hand up to her eyes, Shmi looked through the cloud of exhaust to see two figures begin to descend, one after the other. Satisfied, Shmi lowered her hand and tilted her chin upward, waiting for them to come to her.

Reaching the bottom of the ramp, Obi-Wan stopped when he saw her. He looked nervous, which wasn't too surprising. Obi-Wan was still uncomfortable around her, even after three years of admittedly tenuous comradeship.

"Welcome to Mustafar," she greeted. "Come," she added, beckoning him forward.

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously and stepped aside. Shmi frowned, displeased by this blatant disregard of her order. Shmi's irritation faded into shock, however, when she saw Padmé standing behind him at the bottom of the ramp. Hands rested defensively over her swollen midsection, Padmé met her incredulous gaze with a fearful, yet nonetheless determined expression.

"Hello Shmi," she said, her voice barely audible over the sound of the engines.

Shmi's wide eyes narrowed as she took two brisk steps toward Padmé. As she did this, Obi-Wan stepped in front of Padmé and held his hands up protectively.

"You will not hurt her," Obi-Wan said forcefully. "I guaranteed Anakin that I would keep her safe."

"You're pregnant," Shmi said, ignoring Obi-Wan's unnecessary proclamation.

"I am," Padmé affirmed, quivering with fear as she cowered behind Obi-Wan.

"With… Anakin's child?" Shmi asked.

"Yes," Padmé said, furrowing her brow with indignation at the implicit accusation. "Anakin is the father."

Shmi blinked a few times as she absorbed this incomprehensible information. Anakin was going to be a father? She was going to be a grandmother? This was surreal to her. Never before had she even considered such a possibility.

"Give me your word that you won't hurt her," Obi-Wan said suddenly.

Shmi tore her eyes away from Padmé's belly to meet Obi-Wan's steely eyes. "She's carrying my grandchild, Kenobi," she said. "Why would I ever hurt her?"

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment before he nodded. "Good," he said as he stepped aside. "Forgive me, but I had to make sure. Anakin tasked me with defending her, and I would rather die than break my word to him."

"That's quite noble of you, Kenobi, but thoroughly unnecessary," Shmi said, rolling her eyes at Obi-Wan's highfalutin declaration. "Padmé, walk with me, would you?"

Clearly surprised by this request, Padmé glanced at Obi-Wan before nodding cautiously. Stepping past Obi-Wan, Padmé fell into step with Shmi as they made their way off the landing platform. Obi-Wan followed behind closely as they walked toward the facility.

Watching Padmé out of the corner of her eye, Shmi felt a surge of protectiveness and perhaps even affection develop toward the diminutive woman. It was true, she had held a grudge against Padmé for a long time, but that unfounded yet nevertheless irrepressible rancor had disappeared in an instant now that she was carrying her grandchild. She saw Padmé in an entirely different light now. No longer was she the despicable harlot who had cajoled her son into loving her. That wretched woman had always been a figment of her imagination, and while Shmi had always known that to be true, she hadn't been able to admit it until now.

She hadn't resented Padmé for anything she had done. Instead, she had resented her for what she represented. Her relationship with Anakin was indicative that her little Ani had grown up. In her delusion, Shmi had chosen to blame Padmé for that rather than accept the actual reason for why she had been robbed of a massive chunk of her son's childhood. That was entirely her fault, not Padmé's. It had been her decision to join Plagueis and abandon her son and husband.

At the thought of Qui-Gon, Shmi felt her eyes begin to water up, although to be fair, that could also have been a consequence of the ubiquitous black smoke generated by the stream of lava below. Qui-Gon would have been elated to learn that he was going to be a grandfather. It was a shame he would never be able to meet his grandchild.

It was more than a shame. It was an atrocity. It was this grievous injustice that the Jedi and Sidious had jointly inflicted upon her which drove her. Above all else, she would get her revenge. Qui-Gon's death would not be in vain.

"You will be safe here, Padmé," Shmi told her once they had entered the facility and the blast doors closed behind them.

Padmé nodded, shivering slightly due the abrupt shift of temperature. Looking around the austere hallway, Padmé rubbed her arms and looked at anything but Shmi. It was clear she didn't feel comfortable in her presence, much like Obi-Wan. This would have to be rectified in time. She couldn't allow the mother of her grandchild to fear her.

"Follow me," Shmi ordered stiffly, spinning around once more and marching away toward the conference room. Upon entering the room, Maul leapt from his chair to his feet. His yellow eyes darted behind Shmi to see Obi-Wan and then finally Padmé. She saw his gaze drift south and his eyes narrow, but Maul made no comment.

"Maul here will protect you while you are here on Mustafar," Shmi said, turning around to face Obi-Wan and Padmé.

"I don't need his protection," Padmé said at once, eyeing Maul with contempt. "Obi-Wan is more than capable."

"You can trust him, Padmé," Obi-Wan said. "Maul is a friend."

"He is the primary enemy of the Republic," Padmé countered.

"Sidious is the real enemy," Shmi said quickly, holding up a cautionary hand to prevent Maul from speaking. "We are the true loyalists here."

Padmé gave Shmi a skeptical look. "You mean to say the leader of the Separatists is really a supporter of the Republic?"

Shmi frowned and looked away so as to prevent Padmé from seeing her irritation. Political conversations such as this one were anathema to Shmi. For her, all that mattered was if one supported Sidious or not. Every other factor was immaterial. The Republic and the Confederacy were entirely irrelevant to her, but Padmé of course didn't see things that way.

"We are the harbingers of peace," Shmi compromised, looking back at Padmé with forced calm. "All Sidious wants is chaos and war. We intend to stop him."

"By destroying the Republic in the process?" Padmé asked bitingly.

Shmi bit her tongue hard, refusing to let her temper get the better of her. "We will do what has to be done," she said vaguely. "No more questions," she added authoritatively when Padmé opened her mouth to object. "I did not bring you here to quarrel."

Just then, a vibrating sound emanating from Maul's robes distracted both Shmi and Padmé, mercifully staving off the impending conflagration between the two fiery women. "Sorry," Maul mumbled to Shmi as he reached into his pocket and produced his comlink. "What is it?" he asked irritably as he activated the device.

"_My lord, Lord Sidious demands you make contact with him at once,_" the voice said.

"Sidious?" Maul said, eyes wide. "Did he say what for?"

"_No, my lord,_" the voice said. "_He said it was urgent._"

Maul fumbled with his collar and nodded. "Very well," he said in a high voice. "I will do so at once." Deactivating the comlink, Maul thrust it back into his pocket as he looked up at Shmi. "What do I do?" he asked nervously.

Shmi didn't answer at once, forehead scrunched as she contemplated what it could be that Sidious wanted. She had expected Anakin to be the one to make contact, not Sidious. Could it be that something had gone wrong on Coruscant?

"Use the holoprojector," Shmi said, gesturing to the device in the center of the conference table. "You two, come over here," she added to Obi-Wan and Padmé. Walking to the opposite flank of the table and out of sight of the holoprojector's camera, Shmi pulled out a chair for Padmé and stood beside Obi-Wan once she had sat down.

From the opposite end of the table, Maul finagled with the holoprojector for a moment before standing back upright. At once, the device burst to life, revealing the blue-tinged, veiled hologram of Sidious himself.

"Master," Maul said, genuflecting before the larger-than-life hologram. "I didn't expect –"

Maul's groveling was interrupted when he was abruptly lifted into the air by his throat. "_Enough of the games, Maul,_" Sidious said in his repulsively raspy voice. "_Relay this message to your true master. The Jedi have imprisoned her son on my orders. Tell her that I will have him executed in one standard day if she does not surrender herself to me. That is all._"

With that, Sidious' hologram flickered out and Maul collapsed back down to the ground. Sputtering, Maul struggled to his feet with the assistance of the table.

"He knows," Maul said in a hoarse voice. "He's known all along. We were fools to ever think we could deceive him."

Shmi felt frozen with fear as she gaped back at Maul silently. Anakin was in grave peril, much like Qui-Gon had been ten years ago. This time, however, Sidious would not win. This time, he would pay.

"Assemble the fleet," she ordered, fists clenched into fists as a raw, unmitigated rage exploded within her. "We're going to Coruscant."

"But we're not strong enough!" Maul protested. "The fleet will be eviscerated!"

"Don't argue with me!" Shmi bellowed viciously, causing Obi-Wan to jump and Padmé to shrink away with fear. "My son is not going to die!"

Knowing better than to question her, Maul nodded and rushed out of the room. Pressing her hands against her forehead, Shmi paced away from the shaken Padmé and disconcerted Obi-Wan. A dull cackle reverberated in her skull, jeering her for her foolishness. How could she have allowed this to happen? How could she have underestimated Sidious like this? Plagueis would never been duped like this. If her father had been by her side, Anakin wouldn't be in terrible danger right now.

"Shmi?"

"You stay here," Shmi commanded, spinning back around toward Obi-Wan. "Stay with Padmé. Make sure she's safe. I'm going to Coruscant to end this."

"And if you don't succeed?" Padmé asked quietly, her brown eyes wide with apprehension.

Shmi contemplated Padmé for a moment before shaking her head. Without offering a response, Shmi marched out of the room after Maul.

* * *

_One day later_

_In orbit above Coruscant_

Shmi held her chin up high as she admired the sight before her. As the flagship approached, the radiant ecumenopolis came into view in the panoramic front window, causing luminous streaks of artificial light to dapple across the curved plexiglass. The sight truly was a spectacle to behold, and for Shmi it was as poignant as it was awesome. Shmi hadn't been to Coruscant in three years, and she hadn't been there openly for well over ten. After today, she would no longer have to live in hiding. Finally, she was returning home.

Standing behind her on the bridge of the _Invisible Hand _was Maul who was attempting to assuage a deeply anxious and confused General Grievous. As head of the Separatist Fleet, Grievous didn't understand why he had been ordered to amalgamate the previously-dispersed armada on such short notice.

"This is suicide!" the cyborg protested, his mechanical limbs creaking as he let out a hacking cough. "Why now? What has changed?"

"You have your orders, General," Maul said dryly. "It is not your place to question them."

"Does Lord Sidious know about this?" Grievous asked.

Shmi heard Maul chuckle humorlessly. "Oh yes, he knows all about this," he said with a hint of sardonic wit.

Shmi smirked, appreciating Maul's attempt at levity. Turning around away from the window, she looked at the hulking form of Grievous. "Rest easy, General," she said encouragingly. "The Force is with us today. Victory is at hand."

Grievous narrowed his yellow eyes at her. "What do you know of the Force?" he asked.

Shmi's mouth twitched in amusement. Grievous of course didn't know who she was, having only admitted her onto his ship at Maul's express order. It was ironic for him to ask her this. She was the physical embodiment of the Force, after all. Her knowledge of the Force was as intrinsic as it was absolute.

"Your job will be to preoccupy the Republic Fleet while Maul and I jettison to the surface," Shmi instructed, ignoring Grievous' inquiry.

"Who are you to give me orders?" Grievous asked indignantly.

"You will listen to her, Grievous," Maul growled. "Consider her orders as mine."

Grievous looked as if he wanted to protest, but the expression on Maul's face evidently encouraged him to reconsider. "Very well, my lord," he grumbled.

"Good," Maul said, satisfied with Grievous' compliance.

"Are you sure you won't need my help?" Shmi asked Maul.

"I'll be fine," Maul dismissed. "Besides, I will have Savage and Ventress to help me."

Shmi pursed her lips and crossed her arms. She was trusting Maul with infiltrating the Jedi Temple so as to rescue Anakin. Maul and Ventress were formidable warriors, and Savage was capable as well, but even so Shmi couldn't help but be apprehensive. The Jedi Temple would be well defended, far more so than even the Senate building would be.

"You better succeed, Maul," Shmi threatened. "I am trusting you with my son's life."

"I will not fail you," Maul insisted. "You should be more worried about yourself."

Shmi rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I have nothing to fear from Sidious," she said confidently. "He is no match for me."

"Are you sure of that?" Maul asked skeptically.

"I am," Shmi said, turning around to look out the window once more. While she had lied to Maul often over the past three years, her confidence wasn't a façade this time. She had never felt more sure of herself than she did right now. The raw power coursing through her was unprecedented, yet at the same time she felt absolutely in control of herself. Sidious didn't know what was about to hit him.

That being said, a lingering sense of trepidation continued to plague her conscience. Once again, the fear that she was playing directly into Sidious' hand reemerged. How could she not fear this? It seemed as if Sidious had known everything all along. Wouldn't it therefore be logical to assume that Sidious would be prepared for her as well?

Perhaps he thought he was prepared, but Shmi could guarantee that Sidious was underestimating her. All her life, she had been underestimated. By Plagueis when she had been first conceived, then by the Jedi, and then by Dooku. Sidious would be the last decrepit man to make that mistake. After today, Elegius would have proven herself to the galaxy. Henceforth, she would never be underestimated ever again.

"Are you ready, Maul?" she asked while continuing to stare determinedly out the window.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she heard him say.

"Good," Shmi said with a thin smile. Craning her head back to look at Maul, she gave him a reassuring nod. "It's time to get our revenge, my friend," she said. "Decades of injustice come to an end today."

Maul met her gaze and reciprocated her nod. "Revenge," he repeated in a steely voice.

Shmi's smile broadened as she returned her attention to the ever-growing planet below them. "Let's kill the son of a bitch," she said to herself.

The final showdown had arrived. For the first time in twenty-three years, she was going to face Sidious. And this time, he would be the one to suffer.

* * *

An hour later, Shmi jettisoned from the _Invisible Hand _in a tiny escape pod which couldn't be detected by radar. Maul, Savage, and Ventress followed behind soon after, and the four of them rendezvoused at Qui-Gon's apartment once they had all made it to the surface without incident. From there, they had taken Obi-Wan's speeder into the epicenter of the city. All the while, the sights and sounds of the ensuing battle raged above them.

"Remember the plan," Shmi said once again, relaying the ad hoc strategy they had developed for the umpteenth time. "Once you get Anakin out, get off the planet as soon as you can. The Jedi should have some fighters in their hangar which you can commandeer."

"We know," Maul said from the back seat with a hint of exasperation.

"Are you sure that –"

"Your son will be fine, Elegius," Maul interrupted. "The Jedi are not prepared for us. They will be too preoccupied with the battle to stop us."

Shmi pursed her lips anxiously and nodded. "Alright," she said.

"Don't worry, Elegius," Savage said unexpectedly. The burly zabrak who was driving the speeder glanced at her momentarily before returning his attention to the bizarrely empty air lanes. "My brother and I will not fail you."

"Hey!" a voice from the back protested.

"Nor will Ventress," Savage added hastily.

Shmi smiled thinly, surprised yet pleased by Savage's unprompted declaration of loyalty. "Thank you," she said faintly, craning her head upward at the sound of an especially powerful explosion. "I owe you everything for this," she added.

"You will owe us nothing if you kill Sidious," Savage said with a growl. "You will kill him, won't you?"

"Oh yes," Shmi said with a smirk. "I will."

As the speeder descended toward the Senate building, they were stopped at the gates by a pair of blaster-wielding clone troopers. "Turn around at once," the clone instructed. "The Senate is on lock down."

"You will allow us entry," Shmi said forcefully, pushing Savage's broad chest out of the way so that she could look the trooper directly in the eyes. "I need to see the Chancellor."

The clone stared at her silently for a moment before lowering his weapon. "Very well," he said in a dazed voice. "You may enter."

"Thank you," Shmi said, alighting the speeder and placing her hands on her weapons. "See you on the other side," she said to her zabrak companions. With that, she produced her lightsabers and began to jog toward the Senate building, leaving a pair of deeply confused clones behind her.

Donning her hood, Shmi lowered her head as she entered the extravagant building. Armed clones dominated the premises, providing heightened security in light of the battle. Marching purposefully toward the elevators, Shmi waved her hand whenever a clone trooper so much as looked her way, causing them to stiffen and spin around abruptly, oftentimes into a wall or a fellow clone. Shmi would have found the sight amusing under normal circumstances, but this was not the time for comedy.

Reaching the elevator, Shmi mashed the button agitatedly. Tapping her foot against the ground as she waited impatiently, she kept her shields high. She didn't want Sidious to know that she was coming for him. Her arrival ought to be a complete surprise to him, yet she doubted it would be. Sidious seemed to be omniscient. He had known all about her machinations up to this point, and it was entirely probable that she was walking into a trap by attempting to confront him.

Shmi didn't care, however. Stepping into elevator which had finally arrived, Shmi couldn't help but smile as the doors closed behind her. The prospect of killing Sidious was engrossing, rendering the possibility of a trap thoroughly disinteresting to Shmi. She knew she was more powerful than Sidious. She was more powerful than anyone. Whatever Sidious had planned, Shmi was confident she would be more than capable to counter him. The prospect of revenge against him – revenge for raping and torturing her, revenge for having her husband killed, revenge for imprisoning and threatening her son – was intoxicating.

As the elevator came to a stop on the top floor, Shmi marched out before the doors had even fully opened. Lightsabers in hand – the darksaber in the left and her old Jedi blade in the right – she strode forth down the red carpeted hallway toward the Chancellor's office. With a casual flick of her wrist, she dismissed the two clones stationed by the front door and walked in.

There he was. Seated behind his desk, Sidious looked up and grinned as she approached. "Darth Elegius," he said, standing up as she descended the short flight of stairs toward him. "We meet again, at last."

Stopping a few feet in front of his desk, Shmi activated the two lightsabers in her hand. "And for the last time," she said in a low voice.

Sidious' smile broadened, his thin facing stretching grotesquely as his dark eyes glinted. "Very true," he said as he reached into his pocket and produced his own lightsaber. "Because after tonight, you will be dead and all my plans will have come to fruition."

"Oh, I don't think so," Shmi said, gripping the two hilts in her hand so hard she may have left an indent in the metal.

Sidious' smile faded into a snarl. Activating his red blade, Sidious gave a guttural growl before abruptly lunging at her over the desk. Shmi raised her two blades to meet his, and with that the battle begun. The two proteges of Plagueis clashed in the office of the Chancellor, the seat of utmost power in the entire galaxy. The fate of Force rested upon their three blades: black, blue, and red.

The ultimate duel had finally begun.

* * *

Anakin was pacing back and forth in his cell, struggling to keep his looming sense of dread at bay, when he heard sounds of a commotion in the hallway. Squinting his eyes in the darkness to see what was happening, the door to the prison was suddenly thrust open, inundating Anakin's dilated retinas with blinding white light. Holding his hand up to his eyes, Anakin stumbled backward.

"Come on, let's go!" Anakin heard a familiar voice call out.

Acclimating himself to the light, Anakin took a step toward the bars of his cell to look at what was happening.

"Mom?" he called out cautiously. Had Shmi come to rescue him?

"Close enough."

Stepping into the hallway was a familiar face indeed: Darth Maul. Striding toward his cell, Maul was followed by his brother Savage and by Ventress.

"Maul!" Anakin exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"We've come to rescue you, of course," Maul said. "Stand back."

Complying, Anakin pressed his back against the wall as Maul produced his lightsaber. Activating the shaky red blade which his mother had bequeathed to him, Maul sliced at the control panel, causing the bars to his cell to rise up vertically.

"Come on," Maul said gruffly. "We don't have much time."

"What's going on? Where's my mom?"

"She's fighting Sidious in the Senate," Savage informed him. "We promised to get you to safety."

"But we have to help her!" Anakin protested.

"We are operating on her direct orders, Anakin," Ventress said. "We don't have time to argue. We have to go now."

Anakin hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Fine," he said.

"Good," Maul said. Reaching into his black robes, Maul fumbled around for a moment before producing a second hilt "I believe this belongs to you," he said, handing his father's lightsaber to him.

Anakin's eyes widened. "Thank you so much," he said, accepting the offering with alacrity. He had feared that he would never find his father's lightsaber again after the Jedi had taken it from him. He truly was in Maul's debt.

"Let's go," Maul said once Anakin had reattached the trusty green lightsaber to his belt.

* * *

The Chancellor's office was thoroughly thrashed as Sidious and Shmi blades slashed without regard for the ostentatious décor. Sidious' red blade whirled with exceptional speed, but Shmi was more than capable of keeping up with him. Having retreated back up the stairs, Shmi retook the initiative by launching an offensive of her own. Shmi pummeled Sidious with ruthless and rapid blows from her two blades, and soon Sidious' face was glistening with sweat from overexertion.

"You're no match for me," Shmi growled as she leaned into their interlocked blades.

Sneering, Sidious pulled back and swiped down at her legs. Parrying the ill-advised swing with the darksaber, Shmi struck down at Sidious' shoulder with her blue blade. Narrowly avoiding the overhead strike, Sidious spun out of the way and resumed backing away from her toward the entrance of the office.

"Your faith in your abilities has made you arrogant, Elegius," Sidious taunted, his knees bent slightly as he held his red blade in front of his face.

"My powers are greater than you can even dream of," she shot back, pairing her verbal assault with a physical offensive as she hacked at Sidious' head with her black blade. Ducking under the swing, Sidious counterattacked and began pushing Shmi back. Stumbling back toward the stairs, Shmi lost her balance for a moment, prompting her to leap away from Sidious, backflipping so that she landed back on her feet behind the desk.

Sidious loomed over her from the top of the stairs, his black eyes meeting her own fiery ones. The power emanating through the Force from the two of them was no doubt unprecedented. The darkness wailed and swirled around the office, with the two of them located in the eye of this tempestuous maelstrom of power. Yet not for one instant did Shmi feel as if she wasn't in control over it. In that moment, the two of them had both reached the zenith of their powers, and Shmi's potential far outmatched that of Sidious'.

"Plagueis was a fool to abandon you so early," Sidious said unexpectedly. "I saw your potential long before he realized it."

"Is that why you did it?" Shmi asked, her voice full of vitriol. "Is that why you raped me?"

Sidious scowled and lowered his lightsaber. Instead of answering, he raised his left hand and sent a wave of blue lightning toward her. Shmi was ready however, using the darksaber to absorb the salvo.

"I chose you, Skywalker," Sidious said, ceasing the ineffectual lightning. "I thought your son would be the tool I needed. Too bad he was a disappointment."

"That's because you failed," Shmi said, walking around the desk slowly as she began to approach Sidious. "You did not conceive my son."

"Is that so?" Sidious asked, eyes narrowed as he took a step back.

"You killed my son's true father," Shmi said bitterly. "You had my husband murdered."

"Jinn?" Sidious asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise.

"You'll pay for what you did!" Shmi bellowed. Leaping up the stairs in one jump, Shmi resumed her assault. Sidious contorted out of the way and began retreating toward the window. Powers reinvigorated at the thought of her late husband, Shmi's blades gyrated and whirred with deadly, nearly mechanical precision and brutality.

Unable to keep up, Sidious bared his teeth as he fled toward the window. Slashing his red blade behind him, the massive window smashed into millions of shards. The howling wind threatened to knock both of them off balance, but Shmi persevered through it. Eyes narrowed as she walked through the gale, Shmi held her two blades up high before resuming her assault against her cornered foe.

Unable to retreat any farther, Sidious made a final stand by the window, but his defense was futile in the face of her tenacity. With one last swift slice, Shmi cut straight through the hilt of Sidious' lightsaber. The two halves of the weapon flew out of Sidious' hand and plunged out of the window toward the ground below.

"It's all over, Sidious!" Shmi yelled over the roaring wind, her silver hair billowing behind her as she pointed her blue blade at Sidious' heaving chest.

"No, no!" Sidious pleaded as he tripped and fell to the ground at the edge of the window frame, his hands held up in front of him. As Shmi raised her lightsaber over her head once again, Sidious unleashed a new wave of lightning in a desperate attempt to save himself. Caught off guard, Shmi was only barely able to block the fusillade of crackling electricity extruded from Sidious' fingertips.

Pressing her two blades downward, Shmi redirected the lightning back toward Sidious's face. A fetid stench bombarded her nostrils as the flesh on Sidious' face seemed to melt, prompting Shmi to cringe in revulsion. Shmi hadn't even realized she had been screaming until Sidious finally stopped the lightning, the back of his head collapsing into the wall with a dull thud.

Trembling with disgust and exertion, Shmi lowered her blades as she stared down at the pitiful sight below her. "You sicken me, Sidious," she said, scrunching her nose. "You did everything in your power to ruin my life. It's about time you faced retribution for your sins."

"You're not going to kill me," Sidious said in a raspy voice. "You can't."

"Watch me," Shmi said. Clipping the superfluous darksaber to her belt, Shmi reared her blue lightsaber back over her head with her right hand. Sidious had disarmed her of this blade so easily all those years ago on Jakku. Now after everything that had happened to her since, it was only fitting that she defeat him with this very blade.

Pausing for the briefest of moments, Shmi stared down at Sidious' mangled face in triumph. With a roar, she brought the blade down to Sidious' throat…

A flash of purple crossed her vision, followed immediately thereafter by a searing pain in her arm. Shrieking, Shmi stumbled backward and saw in horror that her hand was gone. Her lightsaber soared out the window, her severed hand still attached to the hilt as it plummeted out of sight. Falling on her back by the precipice of the open window, Shmi looked up to see her old master Mace Windu standing over her, his purple blade held with two hands in front of him.

"No! Master, no!" she yelled as Windu raised the distinct purple blade over his head to strike her down just like how she had tried to strike Sidious down moments ago.

"Goodbye, Shmi," Windu said, his voice barely audible over the tempestuous wind.

With that, the Jedi Master swung down at his former Padawan.


	22. Love and Greed

_Coruscant_

Having emerged from the prison ward on the lower levels of the Temple, Anakin and his three zabrak rescuers encountered minimal resistance as they made their way to the hangar. A few yellow-lightsaber-wielding Jedi Temple Guards and a smattering of lesser Knights attempted to stop them, but Maul and Ventress made quick work of them. The Temple was more or less empty on account to the battle currently ensuing in the upper atmosphere which Maul had told him about.

Reaching the elevator, Savage and Ventress held their red blades up high and kept a look out while Maul and Anakin waited for the elevator to arrive. Upon mashing the button with his left hand, however, Anakin suddenly screamed out in pain.

"Anakin, what's wrong?" Maul asked.

Anakin dropped his father's lightsaber in his right hand and fell to his knees in front of the elevator. His wrist felt as if it was on fire. He couldn't move his right hand, a terrible fear coursing through him and paralyzing him.

"Anakin!"

The doors to the elevator opened in front of him. Anakin whimpered as he looked up to see Maul and Savage grabbing him by the armpits and lifting him into the elevator. Ventress followed behind them, reaching down to take his father's lightsaber from off the ground.

"Go, go, go!"

Anakin's closed his eyes and bit down hard on his tongue in a desperate and ultimately fruitless attempt to relieve the terrible pain in his right hand. He felt Maul and Savage release him as they helped him back down to the floor.

"What's wrong? Are you hit?" he heard Maul ask.

"It hurts so much," Anakin groaned, burying his right hand in his armpit. "I… I think she's in pain."

"She?" Maul repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"Mom's in danger," Anakin said, fully confident of this all of a sudden. Opening his eyes, he met Maul's pale-yellow ones. "We have to help her," he said.

Maul shook his head at once. "We're not doing that, Anakin," he said.

"We have to! She could die!"

"We have our orders, Anakin."

"She's my mother! I have to help her!"

"No, you don't."

Pain subsiding a bit in the face of his incredulity, Anakin looked up at Savage and Ventress who were standing behind the kneeling Maul. "Why not?" Anakin asked.

"Elegius is a monster, Anakin," Maul said. "It's best if you leave her to her fate."

Anakin gaped at Maul silently for a few moments, sure he had misheard him. "You don't mean that," he said.

"I do," Maul said, nodding his head once. "Come with us. The four of us can overthrow Sidious by ourselves. We don't need Elegius to give us orders."

"You traitor!" Anakin exclaimed, struggling to his feet as he pressed his back against the elevator wall. "She trusted you!"

"She tortured me!" Maul shot back, getting to his feet as well. "She's no different than Sidious. It's for the best if he kills her."

"Take that back!"

"No, I won't," Maul said, holding up a preventative hand to Savage who had taken a step forward to defend his brother. "You know it's true, Anakin. I can sense your apprehension. You know Elegius is dangerous."

"So what if I do?" Anakin said, deciding not to deny this statement. "She's my mother. I'm going to help her."

Maul pursed his lips and lowered his hand. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Anakin said. "Are you going to stop me?"

Maul hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "No," he said. "I won't stop you."

"Good," Anakin said as the elevator came to a stop at the hangar level. "Give me my lightsaber back."

"Ventress, do it," Maul ordered.

Ventress looked as if she wanted to object, but upon meeting Anakin's fiery gaze she acquiesced. Handing his father's hilt to him, Anakin swiped it from Ventress' outstretched hand.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"Good luck, Anakin," Maul said candidly as the doors opened behind him. "But do know that my offer still stands. If you change your mind, you can still decide to join us."

Anakin shook his head. "I'm going to save her," Anakin said determinedly. "In more ways than one, I will save my mother."

"And if you can't?" Maul asked.

Anakin parted his lips, but no retort came. Hesitating for a moment longer, Anakin shut his mouth and pushed past Maul toward the hangar. He couldn't allow Maul's treasonous words to affect him. He needed to find a fighter to get him to the Senate. His mother was in terrible danger.

* * *

As Windu swung down at her, Shmi acted on instinct as she used her left hand to tear the darksaber from off her belt and activate the blade. Purple met black directly above her throat, merely inches from her jugular. Lying on her back, Shmi had no leverage to keep Windu's blade at bay for long, however. Ignoring the debilitating pain in her mutilated right arm, Shmi twisted to her right and kicked upward with her left foot, eliciting a yelp of pain when she pressed her stump of an arm under her body weight as she did so.

Her boot made contact with Windu's right flank. Surprised, Windu stumbled back a step and their blades separated. Freeing her right arm from underneath her hip, Shmi's vision was blurred by tears of pain. Struggling to her knees, Shmi held her blade in front of her in a futile attempt to defend herself in case Windu tried to strike again.

He didn't, however. Instead, Windu stared back at her from a few feet away, his brown robes billowing behind him because of the roaring wind. "I failed you, Shmi," Windu yelled over the awesome noise. "I failed you."

Unable to use her hand to help herself get to her feet, Shmi struggled for a few moments to get up. Once she had done so, she tucked her right arm under her armpit and held the darksaber in front of her with her wobbling left hand. She was in no condition to defend herself. She was utterly defenseless before her former master, much like he had been utterly defenseless before her on Geonosis three years ago when she had cut off his right hand.

"I know you did," Shmi said in a trembling voice. "But you don't have to fail me again. Help me, Master. Help me defeat Sidious."

"There is no Sidious!" Windu bellowed, shaking his head. "You created him!"

"He's right there!" Shmi protested, gesturing toward the enfeebled Sidious who was still lying against the window frame.

"This ends today," Windu said, raising his lightsaber with two hands. "I was a fool for ever trusting you, Shmi."

Shmi clenched her jaw, in part because of the pain surging from the cauterized wound up her arm and in part out of frustration for Windu's intransigence. "You're making a terrible mistake, Master," she pleaded. "Don't do this."

Windu didn't respond. Swinging his blade at her, Shmi acted on instinct once again. Ducking under the strike, Shmi let her wounded arm hang limply at her side as she leapt away from the window, swinging sloppily at Windu with the darksaber on her way past. Windu parried the blow easily and pushed her away with a powerful thrust of his lightsaber. Caught off balance, Shmi lost her footing as she stumbled a bit. Windu resumed his offensive as she continued to stagger backward, her left arm held up high as she desperately attempted to absorb a flurry of overhead blows from Windu.

Resolving that sustained defense was impossible, Shmi backed away as Windu reared up for another overhead strike. The back of her knees hit the side of Sidious' desk and she fell to the ground. Deactivating the darksaber, she threw it aside and raised her left hand just as Windu's blade precipitated down to her skull.

Windu was pushed backward toward the open window. Shmi wasn't strong enough to push him over the edge, however, and Windu soon regained his footing. To his left, Sidious was only now beginning to get to his feet, back pressed against the window sill as he took great care not to get blown off his feet by the wind.

"Kill her!" she heard Sidious yell. "Kill her now!"

"Don't listen to him!" Shmi cried as Windu took a few steps toward her, lightsaber held high over his shoulder.

"Destroy the Sith!"

Windu stopped a meter in front of her, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. Her right arm was sprawled out on the ground at her side, the stinging pain beginning to grow as her shock enervated. She was thoroughly defeated. How could she have been so stupid to let her guard down? How could she have not seen Windu enter the office? Evidently he had not seen the rest of their fight, otherwise he would have seen Sidious wielding a Sith blade.

"I loved you, Shmi," Windu proclaimed unexpectedly.

Shmi's eyes grew wide. "Y-you did?" she asked, lower lip trembling as her whole body began to convulse with anguish.

"You were like a daughter to me," Windu said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I never thought you would betray me."

"I… I didn't," Shmi insisted weakly.

Windu shook his head as he raised his lightsaber higher to deliver the final blow. Shmi rested her head against the edge of Sidious' desk, watching the blade as she prepared for the end…

A horrible shout suddenly pierced the air, accompanied by a grunt. Eyes falling back down away from the purple blade, Shmi was shocked to see a red blade protruding from Windu's chest.

"No!" she shouted.

"Thank you, Master Windu," Sidious said gleefully as he rammed his blade farther into Windu's back. "You have been immensely helpfully to me."

"Y-you…" Windu managed to say.

Sidious pulled his lightsaber out of Windu's back and deactivated the weapon. Windu fell to his knees and looked up as Sidious walked around to look at Windu directly.

"You are Sidious," he said in a faint voice.

"And you are mine," Sidious said as he pocketed Windu's discarded lightsaber. Holding up both hands, Sidious unleashed a wave of lightning to the defenseless Windu.

"No!" Shmi shrieked once again as Windu was engulfed in blue electricity which pushed him off his knees and out the open window. Windu's blue-tinged body flew for a few meters before plummeting to the ground and out of sight. Mace Windu was dead.

"I hate you!" Shmi yelled as she raised her own trembling left hand.

Sidious spun around sharply and redirected the lightning to her, preventing her from unleashing her own wave at him. The pain was insignificant to her, however, as her whole body was enfolded in the crackling embrace of the lightning. She had become numb to the suffering by now. When everything hurt as much as it did right now, nothing hurt at all.

Sidious ceased the assault and he lowered his hands. Prowling before her, Sidious grinned devilishly at the pathetic sight before him. "You are defeated, Elegius," he said. "And now, the Jedi will be as well."

"What…what do you… mean?" Shmi asked haltingly, her brain feeling fried and fuzzy.

Sidious didn't respond to her. Walking away and out of sight, Shmi tried to crane her neck to follow him but found that she was too weak to do so. Her body was broken and crippled by agony. Sidious returned to her field of view, this time holding a comlink in hand.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, his grotesque face alight with mirth.

Shmi blinked a few times, bemused by this question. "A… comlink?" she said.

"This, my admirable foe, is the great conclusion." With that, Sidious looked away from her as he activated the device. "Execute Order 66," he said.

"What… what's that?" Shmi asked faintly.

Sidious pocketed the device and when his hand reemerged, he was holding his lightsaber. Evidently he had had two of them, since the other one had fallen out the window just moments earlier. "This marks the end of the Jedi Order," he said. "With this command, the clones will turn their blasters on their former comrades. The Jedi will be defeated, and whatever stragglers remain will be hunted down by the legions of my new empire."

"No, no…"

"All thanks to you," Sidious continued. "Without you, the Jedi would have suspected me long ago."

Shmi shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. This couldn't be happening. Sidious had thoroughly outplayed her. How had she not seen this coming?

"I am grateful, truly," Sidious said as he twirled his still-deactivated lightsaber in his hand. "Because of that, I am willing to be merciful. Join me, Elegius. I will spare your son's life if you do."

"I'll never join you," Shmi spat.

"Together we will achieve a power greater than Plagueis could ever conceive of," Sidious continued, disregarding her emphatic rejection of his offer. "Under our dominion, the Sith will rule the galaxy for generations to come."

"I am not a Sith," Shmi said, her vision beginning to darken as she succumbed to her exhaustion. She just wanted it to be over. She wanted to sleep…

"Join me, and your son will be safe," Sidious said, extending his hand to her.

Sidious' form turned fuzzy as Shmi directed her focus to the hand in front of her face. She couldn't accept his offer! This was the hand of the man who had raped and tortured her. This was the man who had ordered her husband's death. This man was evil incarnate.

But he said her son would be safe. He had no reason to lie about that. By this point, Shmi didn't care about anything but Anakin. All she wanted was for him to be safe. All she wanted was for him to be happy.

Shmi's left hand twitched. Sidious' eyes darted down to watch as she raised her hand slowly to meet his…

The door to Sidious' office flew open abruptly. Shmi dropped her hand back to the ground as she swiveled her head to see what had happened. Rushing through the door was Anakin, his father's lightsaber gripped in his hand as he came to a stop at the top of the stairs.

"Ani," Shmi said weakly.

Anakin looked at her broken form and then up at Sidious whose hand was still outstretched. "Step away from her," Anakin demanded, activating his green lightsaber.

"No," Shmi tried to protest, but she was unable to any more.

"Skywalker," Sidious hissed. Retracting his outstretched hand from her, he raised it toward Anakin and unleashed a fresh wave of lightning, knocking Anakin off his feet and flinging him toward the front door. Shmi tried to shout, but found that she was unable. Her throat was raw and unresponsive. She couldn't do anything but watch as her son writhed in pain…

"Join me, and your son will be safe," Sidious roared over the deafening crackle of lightning.

"Don't listen to him!" Anakin managed to say, his back curling as his whole body was racked with convulsions.

"Join me, and neither of you will have to suffer ever again."

"Mom!"

A steely element coursed through her veins at the horrific sight before her, strengthening her previously unresponsive limbs. Pressing her back against the desk, Shmi trembled mightily as she expended every last ounce of energy to get to her feet. Legs wobbling, tears streaking, and right arm screaming with pain, Shmi finally stood fully upright. Sidious glanced away from Anakin momentarily to see her standing beside him, all the while maintaining the relentless wave of lightning.

Shmi felt lightheaded as she took a step toward Sidious. Her body was protesting, pleading for her to give up and give in. It would be so easy to fall back down and surrender, but she wouldn't allow herself to do that. Her son needed her. The _galaxy_ needed her.

Even though her limbs felt heavier than lead and her mind was fuzzy and discombobulated, Shmi found herself taking step after laborious step toward Sidious until she was mere inches away from him. Finally, Sidious stopped electrocuting her son and attempted to turn his attention to her. He was too late, however. With one last colossal expenditure of energy, Shmi reached out and grabbed Sidious by his throat. Her vision was tinged with red and perforated by bright white spots, but Shmi persevered, lifting Sidious several feet off the air.

Sidious clawed at her hand, but her grip was unyielding. Stumbling forward, Shmi approached the open window with increasingly arduous steps. Unable to breath, Sidious made an undignified gurgling sound as his eyes began to roll up into his skull.

"You... will not…" Shmi swallowed hard, desperate to get the words out of her dry mouth. "You will not… hurt my son… ever again." Shmi's throat felt as if it was going to tear in two as she let out a violent scream. The darkness which she hadn't even realized she had been wielding flooded up her left arm and squeezed mercilessly on Sidious' throat. Her finger tips turned blue as the already mangled flesh on Sidious' throat was singed by the fricative force she had applied. After what felt like hours, Shmi felt Sidious' neck give out from beneath her grip, causing his head to loll forward.

Unable to hold on any longer, Shmi released Sidious' carcass and fell backward. Sidious' feet hit the window sill and his body fell away out the open window, plummeting down into the bright lights of the city below. Shmi continued to fall backward as if in slow motion as she watched Sidious descend away from her and out of sight. She barely had time to register triumph when the back of her skull thudded against the floor and her vision turned black.

* * *

"Awake, my child."

Shmi's eyes fluttered and finally opened. She was lying supine on the floor of a white, featureless room. Blinking rapidly, she tilted her chin and saw that she was dressed in a silken white dress which molded perfectly to her body. Propping herself upward, Shmi realized with a start that she was whole again. Her right hand had returned and the unbearable pain had faded. She felt nothing but the cool of the silk against her skin and a warm, contented feeling deep within her core.

"You have done well."

Shmi looked up to see him standing a few meters away from her: Darth Plagueis, her father and mentor. He too had been restored, no longer wearing the breathing apparatus around his chest.

"Father?" she said in a small voice.

Plagueis smiled as he took a step toward her. "Rise, my dear," he said.

Without hesitation, Shmi got to her feet, her limbs acting without her hardly even having to think. She felt so very light and free, nothing like how she had felt in Sidious' office.

"Where am I?" she asked. "Am I… am I dead?"

Plagueis chuckled and shook his narrow head. "No, you aren't dead," he said. "You are merely… in limbo."

"Limbo?" Shmi repeated.

"The fate of the galaxy hangs on a thread," Plagueis told her, reaching out and grabbing her much smaller hand. "It rests on your shoulders. You must choose what its fate shall be."

"I… I don't know," Shmi stammered, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. "I just… where's Anakin?"

"He is safe," Plagueis assured, giving her hand a squeeze. "But he should not be the object of your concern. He can look after himself."

"But Sidious –"

"Is now dead," Plagueis said as he released her healthy right hand. "He cannot threaten you or your son ever again. What you must do now, however, is ensure that he never returns."

"How would he return?" Shmi asked, eyes wide with fear.

"You must restore order to the galaxy," Plagueis said, not answering her question. "Restore the balance which you were meant to restore. Only then will Sidious' demise be truly permanent."

"But… but how do I do that?" Shmi asked, feeling very small and powerless once more.

"The Jedi and the Sith have been destroyed," Plagueis said as he began to back away from her. "It is time for a new order to rise."

"A new order?"

"Remember my teachings, child," Plagueis said, his form beginning to fade as it was subsumed by a bright white light in the distance. "Bring balance to the Force by bringing harmony to both the light and the dark. Do not be led astray by either path. Stay true and stay strong."

"I don't know what to do! What should I do?"

"You will find a way," Plagueis assured. "For you are the Chosen One. You will make me proud."

"Father! Father, I need your help! Father!"

"Return home, and you may find the answers you seek."

"Home?" Shmi asked. "What home?"

Plagueis didn't respond as his form faded entirely into the luminous distance. Shmi raised her hand to her eyes, fighting off the brilliant light. Gradually, the intensity of the light dulled and Shmi felt herself falling back down. Soon she was consumed in darkness once more as she descended into the abyss…

* * *

"Mom! Mom, can you hear me? Mom!"

Shmi inhaled sharply and instantly winced as the pain returned in one fell swoop. Her right arm flared up in agony as she was reminded once more that her hand was gone, sliced away by the very man whom she had dismembered just three years prior.

"Mom?"

"Ani?"

"I'm here, Mom. I've got you."

Shmi felt soft hands cradling her back as her torso was lifted up off the floor. Looking up, she saw her soon kneeling beside her, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears.

"Oh, Ani," she said, smiling in spite of the excruciating pain. "You're safe."

"You're safe too, Mom," Anakin said. "You're going to be alright."

Shmi reached up and placed her left hand on Anakin's cheek. "I'm so proud of you," she said in a faint voice. "You saved me."

"And you saved me," Anakin said, a tentative smile emerging on the corners of his cracked lips. "I need to get you out of here," he added urgently.

"No," Shmi said at once, removing her hand from Anakin's cheek as she attempted to get up on her own.

"Mom, you're seriously injured," Anakin protested.

"I'm fine," she insisted, waving him off as he tried to help her up. Using her left hand, Shmi was able to struggle to her feet, instantly feeling light-headed as she did so.

"Mom, your hand –"

"I'll be fine," she dismissed. "I need to… we need to…"

"Do what?" Anakin asked when she trailed off.

Shmi didn't answer him as she limped toward Sidious' desk. Pressing her left hand against the surface, she shuffled forward a few feet as she looked off into the distance. On the horizon, she could see billowing smoke emerging from the Jedi Temple. The clones must have attacked the Temple after Sidious gave the order.

"Mom? What do we have to do?"

"Restore order," she said, thinking about what Plagueis had told her. "And balance."

Anakin was silent as she felt his concerned eyes on her. Tearing her eyes away from the Jedi Temple, Shmi turned back to face him. "It's time to let old things die," she said. "The Sith, the Jedi. The Republic, the Confederacy. Let it all burn."

"Mom –"

"I need your help, Ani," Shmi continued. "And Maul's. Where is he?"

Anakin cringed, looking supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. "He… left," he said.

"Left?" Shmi repeated.

"He asked me to come with him. He wanted me to leave you behind and let Sidious kill you."

Shmi blinked once as she processed this information. "I see," she said, unsurprised yet hurt nonetheless by Maul's betrayal. "We must now consider him as our enemy."

"We don't have to," Anakin said at once.

"No?" Shmi asked.

"He's just afraid, that's all," Anakin said. "He was afraid that you were going to turn into Sidious."

"I am nothing like that monster!" Shmi bellowed, pointing out the window with her stump of an arm.

"I know! I know!" Anakin said, raising his hands in surrender. "But why don't you prove it?"

Shmi narrowed her eyes and lowered her mangled arm slowly to her side. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Restore power to the Republic," Anakin said. "Don't seize power like Sidious would have. Surrender it and let there be peace for once."

Shmi frowned as she considered Anakin's earnest expression. She knew at once that she couldn't do that. Plagueis would not have wanted her to do such a thing. He wanted her to forge a new order, not return to the old. The Republic was a broken derelict of a past era. It was time to move on.

But Anakin didn't understand that. He didn't know what she was trying to do and he certainly wouldn't be willing to help her if she told him that she had no interest in restoring the Republic. She needed him by her side, however. If the duel with Sidious had proved anything, it had proved that she was powerless without Anakin. Her powers were derived from him, and without him she was nothing.

"Very well," she said therefore. "But we can't do that right away. We need to defeat the Separatists first."

Anakin grinned broadly, clearly thrilled by her false acquiescence. "Okay, how do we do that?" he asked.

"Go to Mustafar," Shmi ordered, leaning heavily on Sidious' desk as she pressed her left hand against her forehead. "Do what has to be done."

Anakin's face fell as he realized what she was asking of him. "I can't do that –"

"Yes, you can," Shmi growled. "Think of Padmé. She is in terrible danger there. When the Separatists find out what happened here, they will kill her or worse. You must do this, Anakin."

Anakin's eyes widened as a flicker of fear passed his eyes. "Okay," he said, nodding his head vigorously. "I'll… I'll do it."

"Good," Shmi said, lowering her hand and drooping her aching neck. "I will deal with things on Coruscant. I will need to assume control of the Senate for the time being."

"And once the Separatists are defeated? Will you relinquish power?"

"Of course," she lied without hesitation. "All will be set right soon."

* * *

_One day later_

_Mustafar_

Obi-Wan was twiddling his thumbs as he reclined in his chair, legs draped across the conference table in front of him when his comlink vibrated. Thrilled to have something to do, Obi-Wan kicked his legs off the table and produced the device from his pocket.

"Yes?" he said into the device eagerly.

"_Obi-Wan?_"

Obi-Wan sighed. It was just Padmé. "What is it?" he asked, trying not to let his disappointment seep into his voice. He had been waiting for hours on end for some shred of information. Shmi and Maul had left well over a day ago, and Obi-Wan was terribly worried that he hadn't heard anything from them since. What had happened to Anakin? Had Shmi been able to rescue him, or had things not gone to plan? If the latter was true, Obi-Wan shuddered to think of what might happen because of it.

"_Can you come to my room please_?" Padmé's voice said over the comlink. "_Now?"_

"Of course," Obi-Wan said, perturbed by the anxiety in her tone. "I'll be right there."

"_Thank you,_" Padmé said.

Pushing aside his frustration, Obi-Wan pocketed the comlink and stood up from his chair. Striding out of the conference room, Obi-Wan made his way down the bleak metal hallways of the facility toward the room Maul had provided for Padmé. Heavy footsteps echoing loudly, Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel somewhat irked. He was a Jedi Master, but despite that he had been relegated to handmaiden status. For Anakin's sake, however, he would look after Padmé without complaint. Besides, Padmé was a friend of his. He may not take great pleasure in being tasked with protecting her, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to defend her. He respected and admired the ex-queen immensely and he was honored to serve her even in this humble capacity.

Reaching her room, Obi-Wan knocked briskly before opening the door with a wave of his hand. The room was dark except for a cold, fluorescent night light on a metal end table by the bedside. Padmé was seated on the edge of the bed by the light, breathing through her mouth and pressing her hands to her belly.

"Padmé?" Obi-Wan asked nervously. "What's wrong?"

Padmé looked up to see him standing at the foot of the bed. "Oh good, you're here," she said. "I, um, I think we have to go."

"Go?" Obi-Wan repeated incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

Padmé winced a bit and she looked back down at her belly sharply. "Don't freak out," she prefaced. "But I think I'm going into labor."

Despite Padmé's request, Obi-Wan felt his eyes bulge out of their sockets. "What!?" he exclaimed.

"I told you not to freak out," Padmé said sternly.

"How can I not?" Obi-Wan asked in a panicky, high voice.

"Everything is going to be okay," Padmé said, holding up a hand to him. "We just need to stay calm."

"Calm? Padmé, I can't stay calm! We have to get you off planet!"

"There's no medical facility here?"

"On the lava planet of death and misery?" Obi-Wan snapped.

"I see your point," Padmé said, frowning as she lowered her hand. "Well we have time. My water hasn't broken yet. My contractions are getting more regular, that's all. We could have days, actually."

Obi-Wan cringed, instinctively feeling squeamish at the notion of childbirth. Oh, why did this have to be happening now? Of all times, why did she have to go into labor now? "I thought you weren't due for a month," Obi-Wan said.

"Well, he's going to be a bit early, isn't he?" Padmé said tartly.

"He?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Just a guess," Padmé said with a nervous chuckle.

Just then, Obi-Wan's comlink vibrated once again, causing his heart to skip a beat. Fumbling with his robes, Obi-Wan struggled to locate the device with shaking hands. "This is Obi-Wan," he said when he finally located the comlink and activated it.

"_Master Kenobi?_" an unfamiliar voice asked. "_Are you safe_?"

"Bail?" Padmé said incredulously.

"Who?" Obi-Wan asked.

"That's Bail Organa's voice," Padmé said before wincing once again. "I'd recognize it anywhere."

"Senator Organa?" Obi-Wan asked into the device. "Why wouldn't I be safe?"

"_There has been a coup in the capital,_" Organa's voice said. "_The Chancellor has been assassinated._"

"He has?" Obi-Wan asked. "That's… terrible," he managed to say, yet internally he was whooping in triumph. She had done it! Shmi must have killed Sidious! Did that mean Anakin was safe? Was it all over?

"_I'm afraid it gets worse,_" Organa continued. "_The clones turned against the Jedi. I'm with Master Yoda now, but we haven't been able to make contact with any of the other Jedi._"

Obi-Wan's elation faded in an instant. The clones had turned against the Jedi? But why would they do that? Had they been ordered to do so…?

"Elegius," Obi-Wan said out loud. "She must have done this."

"_It looks like it,_" Organa said. "_She called an emergency session of Senate and assumed control over the Republic. She claims to have control over the clone armies._"

"I can't believe this," Obi-Wan said, pressing his left hand against his forehead. Shmi had finally lost it. Upon defeating Sidious, she must have decided to seize power while she had the opportunity. Why had she done that? And why hadn't Anakin been able to stop her? Did that mean Anakin hadn't been there to stop her? Was it possible he was dead?

"_Master Yoda and I have established a rendezvous point for any of the remaining Jedi that are still out there. You must join us as soon as you are able for your own safety._"

Obi-Wan glanced at Padmé's whose eyes were wide with fear much like his own. "Of course," he said. "Where are you?"

"_On an asteroid field called Polis Massa,_" Organa informed him.

"Is there a medical facility there?" Obi-Wan asked.

"_A_ _medical facility? Why do you ask?_"

"Is there one?"

"_I believe so, yes._"

"Great," Obi-Wan said, relieved. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

"_We?_" Organa asked.

Obi-Wan didn't answer the senator, electing instead to deactivate the device and return it to his pocket. "Come on," he said to Padmé. "Let's get going."

Padmé nodded and attempted to get up off the bed. Obi-Wan stopped her, however, holding up his hand as he walked over to the corner of the room. Unfolding the collapsible wheelchair Maul had been so generous to provide, he wheeled it over to Padmé and gestured for her to sit down. Padmé complied without objection, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead as she struggled into the chair.

Upon picking up the mercifully light bag Padmé had packed for herself, Obi-Wan swung it around his shoulder and pushed Padmé out of the room. "You just keep breathing," Obi-Wan said as they emerged in the hallway.

"I know to keep breathing, Obi-Wan," Padmé said irritably. "You're the one panicking right now, not me."

"Well I'm not the one about to give birth," Obi-Wan countered as they made a turn toward the conference room.

Padmé grumbled something in response which Obi-Wan didn't register. Reaching the conference room, Obi-Wan stopped abruptly when their path was blocked by a contingent of battle droids.

"Where are you taking this woman?" the droid commander asked, blaster in hand.

Obi-Wan released the handles to the wheelchair and stood upright "She requires immediate medical attention," Obi-Wan said, his fingers itching toward his lightsaber on his belt.

"She is not allowed to leave the base," the battle droid said flatly.

"She's in labor!" Obi-Wan protested.

"Step away from the wheelchair," the droid said, raising its blaster to him. Obi-Wan froze, realizing that he couldn't fight the battle droids without endangering Padmé who was positioned directly in between them. Raising his hands, Obi-Wan took a cautious step away from the wheelchair…

"What's going on here? Step aside, Commander."

Obi-Wan looked beyond the battle droids and felt a great surge of relief. Striding toward them was Darth Maul himself.

"Maul!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "Thank the Force you're here."

"My lord, this woman was attempting to leave the base without authorization," the droid informed Maul when he walked into the conference room.

"Get out of my way," Maul dismissed with an agitated wave of his hand. The droids looked at each other as they processed this contradictory order.

"Roger, roger," they compromised, walking away in uniform and leaving them alone in the conference room.

"Maul, she's going into labor," Obi-Wan told their savior. "We need to get her off planet."

Maul narrowed his eyes and glanced down at Padmé. "I assume you heard what happened?" he asked.

"We heard Shmi took control of the Senate," Obi-Wan said.

"And her son joined her," Maul said, still looking at Padmé. "I gave him a choice to come with me, but he refused. They must have conspired to destroy both the Jedi and the Confederacy."

"Anakin wouldn't!" Padmé insisted.

"The fleet is lost and Grievous is missing," Maul said to himself, turning his back on them as he ran a hand over his bald head. "Elegius will probably send her son here to destroy the last remnants of the Confederacy." Obi-Wan and Padmé watched Maul nervously as he slowly turned back to face them, his pale-yellow eyes narrowed with contempt. "I told her time and time again not to do it, not to do what Sidious would have done, but she went ahead and did it anyway."

"Maul, we need to get Padmé off planet," Obi-Wan said urgently.

"I can't let you do that," Maul said ominously.

"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked, instantly on guard.

"She is my bargaining chip," Maul said, gesturing to Padmé with his head. "Skywalker won't try anything if I have her."

"Maul, don't do this."

"I'm sorry, Kenobi," Maul said, finally looking up from Padmé to him. "I have no other choice."

"I won't let you," Obi-Wan said, producing his lightsaber from his belt.

"Neither will I."

A sudden blast pierced the room, shocking Obi-Wan so much that he leapt backward and nearly dropped his lightsaber. Reorienting himself, Obi-Wan saw Maul clutching his chest, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"You –"

"I will not be your bargaining chip," Padmé said viciously.

Maul fell to his knees and dropped his hands, revealing a smoldering hole directly above his heart. "Maul!" Obi-Wan yelled, dropping his lightsaber as he ran to his erstwhile friend and caught him just as he was about to fall on his face before Padmé's feet.

"Don't let her… win," Maul managed to say when Obi-Wan flipped him over and laid him down on his back. "Don't let her become… Sidious."

"Maul, I –"

"Promise me."

Obi-Wan nodded his head, stunned by this turn of events. "I promise," he said faintly.

Maul sighed and closed his eyes, never to open them again. Obi-Wan stared down at the dead Sith for a few moments longer before looking up at Padmé in shock. She was still holding a small blaster in her right hand, a fiery expression in her eyes.

"You killed him!" Obi-Wan said.

"You know I had to," Padmé said as she lowered the blaster. Obi-Wan noticed that despite her cool demeanor, her hand was shaking visibly.

"Where did you even get that blaster?" Obi-Wan asked once he had pushed Maul's body aside.

"I always carry a weapon," Padmé said, her voice laden with steel. "It would be stupid not to after everything I've been through."

"That's fair," Obi-Wan said weakly as he looked back at Maul's body which he had unceremoniously pressed against the side of the wall. He must have been completely caught off guard by Padmé, because it wasn't easy to defeat a warrior as formidable as Maul. To be fair to Maul, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that a pregnant woman wouldn't pose much of a threat in most circumstances, but Padmé was not like most women and this was not like most circumstances.

"Come on," Padmé said, shaking him from his thoughts. "We need to get out of here."

Obi-Wan nodded and exhaled loudly. He was still shaking from the encounter, but he forced himself to regain his calm as he walked past Maul's body and behind Padmé's chair to resume wheeling her out of the complex.

* * *

_One hour later_

When Anakin arrived on the landing platform on Mustafar, he saw a familiar figure waiting for him directly in front of his Jedi Fighter. Alighting from his vessel, he donned his hood and produced his lightsaber. "Stay with the ship, R2," he ordered the eager astromech droid which had made to follow him.

"Anakin," the zabrak greeted, his own red blade humming by his side.

"Savage," Anakin said, reciprocating the greeting with equal frigidity. "Where is your brother?"

Savage's face twitched. "He's dead," he said in a thick voice.

Anakin blinked in surprise. "Dead?" he repeated. "How?"

"I don't know," Savage said. "I think Ventress might be responsible. I don't know where she is."

Anakin narrowed his eyes and looked away, having not expected this turn of events. Maul's death didn't change anything, however. He was here to save Padmé and destroy the Confederacy, not to confront Maul. "Where is my wife?" Anakin asked. "Where is Padmé?"

"Gone," Savage said. "Kenobi took her."

"What?" Anakin asked incredulously, fury flaring up within him.

"They're gone."

"Where did they go?" Anakin asked, his voice shaking with anger. Obi-Wan had promised to keep her here! He had promised to keep her safe! Did this have something to do with Maul somehow?

"I don't know," Savage said.

Furious, Anakin activated his green lightsaber and slashed it in front of him. "Step aside, Savage," he ordered. "There's no need for you to get hurt as well."

"Don't do this, Skywalker," Savage enjoined him.

"The Confederacy ends today," Anakin said, taking a step toward Savage who took a synchronous step back. "After today, my mother and I will have restored order to the galaxy."

"Do you really believe that?" Savage asked, taking another step back.

"Lower your weapon, Savage," Anakin demanded. "You can't control the Confederacy without your brother. It's hopeless to resist."

"I won't let you win," Savage said. "Maul knew the threat Elegius posed to the galaxy. I will do everything in my power to stop her, including killing you."

"You will try," Anakin said with a sinister grin. Savage didn't stand a chance against him and they both knew it.

Yet Savage attacked anyway. Red lightsaber held high, the mammoth zabrak barreled toward him with frightening speed. Anakin slashed upward, parrying Savage's brutal overhead with ease. Twisting away from Savage, Anakin swung toward the zabrak's exposed flank. Absorbing the counterattack, Savage attempted to regain the initiative, but Anakin was too swift. Pushing Savage away toward the edge of the platform, Anakin unleashed a flurry of precise strikes toward his cumbersome opponent.

Savage was not an expert duelist like Maul had been. He relied predominantly on brute force to overwhelm his enemies, but that wasn't going to work against an opponent as skilled as Anakin. Incensed by Obi-Wan's betrayal, Anakin's already superior skills were enhanced further still. His mother had taught him about the ways of the dark side, but never had he truly tapped into them before. He had always been reluctant to give into his anger, but he had never before had a reason to do so. Now he did, and now he understood what _true _power was.

Savage was unable to keep up, and soon his brawny arms were covered in minor cuts and bruises from Anakin's incessant assault. "Give up, Savage!" Anakin bellowed as his foe backed away from him until his heels were on the edge of the landing platform, nothing but the coursing river of lava below. "Don't make me kill you."

"My brother will not die in vain!"

Anakin shook his head and twirled his lightsaber in his right hand. "So be it," he said. Jumping toward Savage with one knee extended, Anakin swung down at the zabrak's neck. Unable to back up any farther, Savage attempted as best he could to absorb the blow. Nicking his neck on the way by, Anakin yanked the blade back and slashed down toward his opponent's midsection. The green blade passed straight through Savage's abdomen, practically slicing him in two. With one last Force push, Savage's body went plummeting off the platform and down into the lava below.

Anakin watched impassively for a few moments before turning away and marching toward the base. Rage had empowered him so thoroughly that he was entirely unfazed by the ease at which he had disposed of Savage. Anakin knew now that nobody spare his mother was more powerful than him. Together, they would be unstoppable. Together they would bring peace to the galaxy once and for all!

Reaching the entrance of the facility, Anakin waved his hand causing the blast doors to open. Striding forth, he marched down the hallway toward the command room where his mother had told him he would find the Separatist leadership. His qualms about eliminating them had entirely disappeared. He was going to do what had to be done, and that was all there was to it. No longer was he going to be debilitated by indecision. Obi-Wan and Maul's respective betrayals had made it clear to him that decisive action was required henceforth.

A black mouse droid scurried away from him as he stormed down the hallway. Following the terrified droid, Anakin found himself being led toward the command room. Upon arriving, he found the entire leadership of the Confederacy sans Maul and Grievous. Looking up from a holographic panel, the Neimoidian Viceroy Nute Gunray saw him standing in the doorway.

"Lord Maul?" he asked cautiously.

Anakin smirked and shook his head. Raising his hand, he shut all the doors leading to the octagonal room, trapping the Separatists in the command room with him.

"Who are you?" Gunray asked, his voice trembling with fear as he stumbled away from him.

"I am your death," Anakin said, activating his father's lightsaber.

The war was over. The Confederacy was no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near! I'm going to see TROS tomorrow night and I couldn't be any more stoked! All that stands in my way now is a dreaded calculus final. Will the great matriarch herself Shmi Skywalker be mentioned in the conclusion of Skywalker Saga? Probably not, but a man can dream. Justice for Shmi!
> 
> With regards to this story, the end is also nigh! I have more or less finished writing, I just have one last section to complete in the epilogue. Much to my surprise, this story ended up being exactly thirty chapters as well. I honestly have no idea why this seems to happen in all my stories. Thirty is just such a good number, you know? Hope you're all enjoying the story to this point. I can't wait for you to read the upcoming chapter as it will feature a big twist which I doubt any of you will see coming!


	23. The Ghost

_Mustafar_

Anakin's robes were drenched in blood of all shades and the command room was overwhelmed by the stench of death. Stepping over the charred remains of a battle droid, Anakin clenched his jaw and held his breath as he made his way toward the holoprojector inlaid into the circular control panel in the center of the room. Activating the device and inserting the necessary information, Anakin crossed his arms in front of him as he waited to establish contact.

"It is done," he said once his mother's hologram appeared in front of him. "The Confederacy has been destroyed."

"_Well done, my son,_" Shmi said. "_You have brought peace to the galaxy._"

The corner of Anakin's mouth twitched, but he didn't smile fully. "There's more," he said. "Maul is dead."

Shmi tilted her chin up and arched an eyebrow in surprise. "_You killed him?_" she asked.

"No, he was dead when I arrived," Anakin said.

"_How?_" Shmi asked.

"I don't know," Anakin admitted. "Savage said he thought Ventress did it, but I'm not so sure."

"_Why not?_"

"He was killed by a blaster, not by a lightsaber," Anakin explained. "Is it possible the droids turned against him?"

"_Not likely,_" Shmi mused, her gaze drifting away as she considered this development.

"One more thing," Anakin said, prompting Shmi to look back at him sharply. "Padmé. She's gone."

Shmi's eyes widened, and Anakin was surprised to register concern in his mother's expression. Was it possible she was worried for Padmé? But he thought she despised her? "_What do you mean she's gone?_" she asked.

"Obi-Wan betrayed me," Anakin growled, red hot rage welling up within him once more. "He took her from me."

Shmi contemplated Anakin's taut face for a moment before speaking. "_We will find him, do not worry,_" she said. "_He will not get away with this injustice._"

"But where would he have taken her? And why?"

Shmi looked away once again, her forehead scrunched in concentration. "_He took her home,_" she finally said, more to herself than to him.

"Home?" Anakin asked. "To Naboo?"

"_No, not Naboo,_" Shmi said shaking her head. "_I know where he is. I'll send the coordinates to you in a bit. Go there as soon as you can, I'll follow you there when I'm able._"

"You don't have to –"

"_Don't argue with me, Anakin. I have to go now. Good luck._"

With that, Shmi's hologram disappeared, leaving Anakin alone in the midst of the massacre. Bemused, Anakin frowned as he looked away from the holoprojector. He didn't understand his mother's behavior, but he knew better than to question her. She clearly knew what she was doing.

* * *

_Coruscant_

Shmi didn't know what she was doing.

After Anakin had departed for Mustafar, Shmi contacted the Vice Chair of the Senate Mas Amedda and forced him to convene an emergency session of Senate. There she had announced Palpatine's death and the end of the war. She knew the transition of power was going to be rocky, and it was probable that very few senators would support her unconstitutional power grab. The senators were irrelevant for the moment, however. All that mattered was the clone army which conveniently was listening to her commands. Even with the clones' loyalty, however, Shmi had no idea how to maintain her flimsy grip over the Republic. Plagueis had told her to forge a new order, but she didn't know how to do that. She couldn't help but doubt herself at this point. What if she had misinterpreted her father? What if he hadn't meant for her to assume power over the Republic at all?

Having been fitted with a bronze-plated mechanical hand in the morning, Shmi made her way to the Jedi Temple to assess the damage the clones had caused. As if in a dream, Shmi lugubriously meandered down the red-carpeted halls of the Temple which she had called home for the first three decades of her life. Bodies were strewn about all over the complex, young and old. Despite her course, phlegmatic exterior, Shmi found herself beginning to tear up at the sight of the dozens of murdered younglings. Shmi may have despised the Jedi Order, but that didn't mean she had wanted all of them to die. This had been Sidious' doing. Never would she have done something so cruel and heartless. But it needed to happen in some form or another. The Jedi had to be defeated. It was convenient that Sidious had done it for her, but that didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

Unable to bear it any longer, Shmi left the Jedi Temple for the Senate which was swarmed with troops. There she had been contacted by her son who had informed her that the Confederate leadership had been taken care of. Her relief that Anakin had succeeded and was safe had been cut short, however, when he told her that Padmé had disappeared.

"What do you mean she's gone?" Shmi asked, seated in Amedda's office in the Senate. She had evicted the Vice Chair from his office and removed him from his post. She didn't want any of Sidious' sycophants to remain in power, and besides, Amedda had a nice office. It wasn't nearly as opulent as Sidious' had been, but this one would do until that one had been repaired and renovated to her liking.

"_Obi-Wan betrayed me,_" Anakin's hologram said, his face contorted with fury. "_He took her from me._"

Shmi narrowed her eyes, seeing much of herself in her young son. Although his hologram was tinged with blue, she could tell that his eyes were burning a fierce yellow, most likely unbeknownst to Anakin himself. It was clear that Obi-Wan's alleged betrayal had pushed Anakin over the edge into the darkness for the first time.

"We will find him, do not worry," she said. "He will not get away with this injustice."

"_But where would he have taken her?_" Anakin asked. "_And why?_"

Shmi looked away and considered the words her father had told her back when she had been in limbo.

_Return home, and you may find the answers you seek._

Return home. Shmi hadn't known what that meant at the time, but now she had a suspicion. She didn't have a home, she never had. The closest thing to a home she'd ever had were the ones with Qui-Gon on Coruscant and with Anakin on Tatooine, but she wouldn't have considered those as her home anymore. No, home was wherever her family was, and ever since Qui-Gon died, she hadn't thought she would ever have a home again.

But something was calling to her. She couldn't quite identify it, but she knew it was where she was meant to be. She knew it was where Plagueis wanted her to. Why, she had no idea, but the call was unmistakable.

"He took her home," she whispered to herself. Why had Obi-Wan brought Padmé there? Was it possible he too had been called there? If so, by who? Could it be that Plagueis had done it? It certainly made sense if that was the case. After all, Plagueis was the only one who knew about that particular location.

"_Home? To Naboo?_"

Shmi returned her attention to Anakin who was giving her an incredulous look. "No, not Naboo," she said with a shake of her head. "I know where he is. I'll send the coordinates to you in a bit. Go there as soon as you can. I'll follow you when I'm able."

"_You don't have to –_"

"Don't argue with me, Anakin. I have to go now. Good luck."

Anakin looked as if he had more to say, but Shmi didn't give him the opportunity, turning off the holoprojector with a snap of her fingers. Standing up from Amedda's desk, Shmi produced her comlink from her pocket and activated it.

"_Yes, my lady?_" a voice answered at once.

"Commander Cody, assemble a task force for me at once," she ordered, opening the door to the office with a wave of her hand. "I need to leave the capital as soon as possible."

"_Where to, my lady?_" the expeditious clone commander asked.

"Polis Massa," she said. "I need to go home."

* * *

_Polis Massa_

"How are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked as he wheeled Padmé into the elevator of the hangar on Polis Massa.

"I'm fine," Padmé said, although the faintness of her voice was deeply disquieting.

"How are the contractions?" Obi-Wan asked, pushing past his juvenile discomfort for the subject.

"Pretty bad," Padmé admitted as the elevator began ascending.

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously at this. "Don't worry, we're almost there," Obi-Wan said. "Just hold on a little longer."

"That's good, because I think my water broke an hour ago."

"What!?" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were busy piloting the ship," Padmé said nonchalantly. "I didn't want to worry you."

Obi-Wan shook his head in disbelief as the elevator came to a stop on the ground level. Would the wonders with Padmé never cease? He was still struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that she had literally killed a man while in labor. And not just any man; she had killed Darth Maul himself with nothing but a blaster! She was an impressive woman, to say the least. Not unlike Satine, in fact.

"You should have told me," Obi-Wan insisted as the elevator came to a stop.

Padmé didn't respond, electing instead to focus on her breathing. As the doors opened, Obi-Wan pushed the wheel-chair out of the elevator and into a pristine white hallway. Taking a turn, they encountered Senator Organa rushing toward them. When he saw Padmé, the senator did a double take.

"Padmé?" he said incredulously.

"Hello, Bail," Padmé said, giving him a strained smile. "Mind showing us where the medical facility is?"

Organa blinked a few times in surprise before responding. "Of course," he stammered. "Follow me."

A few minutes later, Obi-Wan finally bid Padmé adieu when they reached the medical facility. A trio of white medical droids floated toward them and took Padmé with them into the ward. Obi-Wan sighed in relief as he watched Padmé get wheeled away beyond a pair of sliding doors and out of sight.

"What was she doing with you?" Organa asked, standing next to him in the hallway.

Obi-Wan hesitated, not sure how to respond. "That's a story for another time," he said finally, deciding it wise not to unveil Padmé's secret to Organa. Organa frowned, but he didn't pursue the issue any further. "Where is Master Yoda? Is he here?" Obi-Wan asked, studiously diverting the conversation.

"Yes, he is," Organa said, nodding his head. "He would very much like to see you."

"Take me to him," Obi-Wan enjoined.

Organa nodded again and gestured for Obi-Wan to follow him down the hallway. Walking slowly, the pair plodded in silence for a few moments before Organa spoke again.

"I will have you know that we are not alone here," he said ominously.

"How do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked, perturbed by the Senator's tone.

"I'm not sure," Organa said, pursing his lips as they took another turn down an interchangeable white hallway. "Master Yoda was vague about it when he told me."

"That is his style," Obi-Wan grumbled. One could say many things about the sagacious Grand Master, but explicit was not one of them. "What exactly did he say?"

"That an old ghost lived here," Organa told him.

Obi-Wan frowned and glanced at the concerned Senator. An old ghost? What did that mean? "Has he spoken to this ghost?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Not that I know of," Organa told him. "For what it's worth, I'd rather he not."

Unsure how to interpret this, Obi-Wan said nothing. Organa seemed more than content to marinate in the silence as well, and the two said nothing more as they continued onward down the sterile hallway. Obi-Wan's thoughts drifted away from the disconcerting issues of the present to the even more troubling questions of the immediate future.

Was what Maul had told them really true? To be fair, Maul wasn't the most reliable source of information given the circumstances, but Obi-Wan couldn't think of a reason for him to lie. It was entirely plausible that Shmi had decided to usurp the Republic after having killed Sidious. What didn't make sense, however, was that Anakin would join her. What really had happened on Coruscant? Had Anakin truly turned to the dark side at his mother's behest? Would he have really done that knowing that he was about to be a father?

Obi-Wan's worrisome thoughts were cut short when Organa led him into a room at the end of the hallway. A window pane encircled the entire room, providing a view of the floating, barren asteroids around them. Seated in front of the window directly across the room from them was Yoda, his legs crossed and his eyes most likely closed as he meditated with remarkable calm. Yoda always managed to maintain an air of tranquility even amidst times of tumult or disarray. Now was evidently no exception, despite the catastrophic severity of the circumstance.

"Master Yoda," Organa said, striding forth toward the Grand Master. "Master Kenobi has arrived."

Yoda's triangular ear twitched yet he made no movement toward the voice. Obi-Wan watched cautiously from a few feet behind Organa, waiting for Yoda to address him. "Recognize you, I did not," he said finally. "Clouded by fear, you are, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan flinched, caught off guard by this assessment. "Are you not afraid, Master?" he asked in a strained voice.

Yoda chuckled softly as he used he summoned his cane from across the room. Using the stick to prop himself back upright, he turned around to face him. "Afraid, we must not be," he pontificated. "To the dark side, fear will only lead."

Uncharacteristic anger sparked within him at these empty words. "The Republic has fallen and all of the Jedi are dead!" he exclaimed, arms gesticulating wildly at his sides. "Elegius had them killed! And Anakin helped her do it!"

"Know this, do you?" Yoda asked.

"Well, not for sure, but –"

"Misconstrued, your interpretation is," Yoda said, grunting a bit as he began to walk toward him and Organa. "Betray the Jedi, young Skywalker did not."

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow and tilted his head curiously. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"Join his mother willingly, he would not have had he known her plans," Yoda said, avoiding the question as he walked past Organa toward the door.

Dumbfounded, Obi-Wan's mouth fell open. "How do you know about that?" he asked incredulously.

Once again, Yoda did not answer him. "Follow," he said instead, continuing on past Obi-Wan and out of the room. Sparing a glance toward the similarly confused Organa, Obi-Wan spun around and hurried after the diminutive Grand Master.

"Master, how long have you known?" Obi-Wan asked once he had caught up with Yoda.

"Not long," Yoda said vaguely.

"But –"

"Irrelevant, this is," Yoda dismissed with a shake of his head. "More pressing concerns, we have."

Surpassing Yoda with his longer strides, he turned around and stopped in the middle of the hallway. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Yoda stopped walking and craned his neck up to look at him. "Here, he is," Yoda said. "Confront him, you must."

"Who is here?"

"Skywalker," Yoda said.

"Shmi?" Obi-Wan asked, eyes widening in shock.

"No," Yoda said, lowering his head as he pushed past Obi-Wan to continue walking. "Anakin."

"Anakin is here now?" Obi-Wan asked, following the Grand Master as they made a turn down another corridor.

"Confused, young Skywalker is," Yoda said. "Tell him the truth, you must."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, dreading the prospect of confronting Anakin. "But Master, why don't you do it?" he suggested.

"Trust you more, he does," Yoda said.

Obi-Wan frowned, but he had to concede the point. "Very well," Obi-Wan said with a sigh. "I will talk to him."

* * *

Upon disengaging from the hyperdrive ring, Anakin flew his Jedi Fighter toward the asteroid field that was Polis Massa. He encountered no resistance as he approached and landed in the surprisingly sleek hangar on the largest asteroid in the field.

At once, he could sense that Obi-Wan was here. His incipient fury toward Obi-Wan had tempered somewhat during his brief journey from Mustafar to Polis Massa. The more he thought about things, the less everything made sense. Why would Obi-Wan have abducted Padmé? He had initially assumed that Obi-Wan had found out that Elegius had seized power in Coruscant and figured Anakin had joined up with her. How would he have found out about that, though? He had been on Mustafar the whole time. Had the Jedi contacted him somehow? But surely the Jedi knew what had happened by now. His mother must have informed them that Palpatine was indeed Sidious and that she had defeated him.

Right?

Anakin had thought that had happened because that's what he would have done, but was it possible that his mother hadn't come to terms with the Jedi? Was it possible that upon defeating Sidious, she had turned her attention toward defeating the Order? But why would she do that? And why wouldn't she have told him if that was indeed the case?

This entire affair was thoroughly befuddling and incomprehensible to Anakin. He had never been adept at understanding such intricate machinations like Sidious or Elegius were able. Anakin had always been a tactical thinker rather than a strategic one. As a consequence, he decided to push aside his concerns and focus solely on finding his wife. Surely Obi-Wan wouldn't have done anything to hurt her, but Anakin couldn't be sure of anything anymore. Given the severity of the situation, he would have to assume the worst until proven otherwise, and that meant that he had to consider Obi-Wan as his enemy.

Drawing his father's weapon, Anakin activated the emerald blade as he marched across the hangar toward the elevator. Doubt and disconcertion ebbed away as he picked up on Obi-Wan's Force presence. He had been here very, very recently. Kenobi was close, and that meant Padmé was as well. Following the scent, Anakin felt a steely resolve coursing through him. Once again, there was that formidable power he had felt on Mustafar. It was an intoxicating sensation. Was this how his mother felt all the time? Indomitable and invincible? No wonder she was so confident in herself.

When the doors to the elevator opened, Anakin took two steps out into the luminous white hallway when he stopped. Emerging from around a corner at the end of the hall was the very man he sought to find: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened as they drifted down toward his activated lightsaber. Swallowing nervously, Obi-Wan reached to his belt and produced his own blade and ignited it.

"Where is she?" Anakin asked, his voice elevated because Obi-Wan was still several dozen meters away from him.

Blue lightsaber in hand, Obi-Wan began to walk toward him slowly. "Padmé is safe," he said vaguely. "Or at least she was, until you arrived."

Incensed by the accusation, Anakin slashed his lightsaber against the floor, blemishing the previously spotless white hall as embers flew upward and perforated the opposite wall with burn marks. Deterred by this violent outburst, Obi-Wan ceased walking toward him and raised his lightsaber. Anakin reciprocated the gesture, clenching the hilt of his father's lightsaber with both hands as he brought it up over his shoulders.

"Why are you doing this?" Anakin asked through gritted teeth. "Why did you betray me?"

Bewildered by this question, Obi-Wan lowered his blade and tilted his head. "Betray you? Anakin you're the one who betrayed me!"

"You kidnapped my wife!" Anakin roared.

"You helped Elegius overthrow the Republic!" Obi-Wan countered with equal vociferousness.

"We didn't overthrow the Republic," Anakin corrected. "She'll return power to the Senate once this is all over."

"Once this is over?" Obi-Wan repeated incredulously. "And when will that be? After every last Jedi has been killed? After every threat has been exterminated?"

Anakin blinked in confusion as he processed this bizarre question. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and arched an eyebrow. "You don't know?" he asked.

"Know what?"

Obi-Wan's creased forehead smoothed as he slackened his belligerent posture. Deactivating his lightsaber, he reattached it to his belt with a heavy sigh. "She's manipulated you, Anakin," he said. "She didn't tell you the truth so that you would side with her."

"What truth?" Anakin asked, thoroughly bemused by this point.

"The Jedi have been destroyed," Obi-Wan told him plaintively. "Elegius ordered the clones to turn on them. As far as we know, Yoda and I are the only ones left alive."

Anakin's eyes widened as he lowered his lightsaber, the tip of the green blade grazing the floor with a dull hiss. "You're lying," Anakin said hoarsely.

"I wish I was," Obi-Wan said morosely.

Anakin gaped at Obi-Wan for a moment longer before looking away, angry tears welling up in his eyes. His mother had lied to him? She hadn't told him about her true plans so that he would continue to be useful to her. And he had fallen for it! He had killed the Separatists just like she asked. Now nobody could oppose her will – the Jedi, Maul, and the entire Confederacy were now gone.

"I don't believe you," he said, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to Obi-Wan. "I can't."

"I'm sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "But you knew this was a possibility. You knew she was capable of this."

Anakin felt the strength which had been coursing through his veins mere moments ago dissipate, rendering his limbs heavy and his heart even more so. Hands trembling, Anakin looked down at his father's lightsaber and was struck by a wave of nausea.

"I – I let her do it," he stammered. "I helped her do it. I killed so many people, Obi-Wan. I lost count…"

"Who did you kill?" Obi-Wan asked cautiously when Anakin trailed off.

Anakin deactivated his father's lightsaber and raised the hilt upward as he inspected it with almost macabre fascination. How could he have used this weapon – his father's weapon – for such evil purposes? What would Qui-Gon have thought if he learned his son had murdered countless people with his blade?

"The Separatists," Anakin said, his voice husky as he tightened his grip on the hilt so much so that his wrist began to tremble. "She told me to do it, and I did it. I didn't even think, I just… did it."

"You were deceived, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly. "This is not your fault."

"It is," Anakin said at once, looking up from his lightsaber sharply. "I let her do it. I let her get away with it."

"You couldn't have known –"

"I knew," Anakin interrupted. "I've always known. But I pretended not to. Some part of me must have wanted this. Some part of me wanted her to get away with it."

"That's not true –"

"I felt it, Obi-Wan," Anakin said. "I felt the darkness. And I wasn't afraid of it like I should have been. I… I let it consume me."

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow and took a tentative step toward him. "Well that explains your eyes," he said. When Anakin frowned, Obi-Wan elaborated. "They were yellow when you arrived."

Anakin flinched and looked away, his disgust with himself amplified further still. "I'm just like her, aren't I?" Anakin said bitterly. "I'm a monster just like my mother."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to contradict him, but evidently thought better of it. Perhaps he realized the truth of Anakin's assessment. Or perhaps he had known all along but hadn't wanted to admit it.

"You should go be with your wife," Obi-Wan said after a brief silence. "I had to bring her here because she went into labor."

That got Anakin's attention, rousing him abruptly from his dreary ruminations. "She's in labor?" he repeated, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Come with me," Obi-Wan said, stepping aside to allow Anakin to walk next to him. Hesitating only for a brief moment, Anakin reattached his father's lightsaber to his belt and nodded.

"Is she alright?" Anakin asked when they began walking down the hall.

"Seems like it," Obi-Wan said. "Remarkably so considering the circumstances."

"She's strong," Anakin mused, his limbs feeling tight and jittery as they took a turn toward what he assumed was the medical ward.

"Believe me, I know," Obi-Wan said. "You probably don't know this, but she killed Maul when we were trying to leave."

"What!?" Anakin exclaimed, stopping abruptly and spinning to face Obi-Wan directly. "She killed Maul? How? And why?"

"He was threatening her," Obi-Wan said, smiling slightly at Anakin's reaction. "He told us what happened on Coruscant and told us that we couldn't leave. He wanted to use her as a hostage to get what he wanted from Elegius."

Anakin clenched his jaw and balled up his fists, the deeply-familiar rage returning with a vengeance. Looking away quickly, Anakin closed his eyes and took a deep breath to stabilize himself. "What happened next?" he asked through gritted teeth, eyes still shut as he fought off the darkness within him.

"Maul and I both drew our lightsabers, but Padmé was quicker than either of us," he heard Obi-Wan say. "She had a concealed blaster on her somewhere and shot him with it."

That sounded plenty plausible to Anakin who was well aware of that Padmé's numerous outfits and gowns were designed as much for defense as they were for fashion. Ever since being Queen of Naboo, Padmé never left her home without some sort of weapon. While Anakin had insisted that he was more than able to protect her, he was now glad for what he had previously dismissed as paranoia.

"I can't believe Maul would do that," Anakin said as they resumed walking. "I thought he was our friend."

"He was afraid," Obi-Wan said. "He knew Elegius would kill him if he didn't have any form of leverage. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it does explain it."

"I guess," Anakin grumbled, calming down as the darkness receded gradually. Unclenching his fists, Anakin exhaled out his mouth and sagged his head a bit. He needed to expunge this darkness within him which he had so foolishly allowed to impair his soul. Was that even possible, though? The Jedi used to say that once one turned to the dark side, there could be no return. His mother disagreed with that, saying that it was possible to channel both the light and the dark, but where was the evidence for that? From what he could tell, Shmi was nothing but dark now. Would that have been his fate as well had he continued to follow her advice? He had been so close to falling over the precipice into the inescapable chasm that was the dark side. When Obi-Wan had confronted him just minutes earlier, Anakin had been ready to kill him. And he would have killed him just like he had killed Savage had Obi-Wan not told him the truth.

It all made sense to him now why he had sensed his mother's fear of herself. Anakin felt that same fear. They were both terribly afraid of their powers and what they could be used for. The only difference was Shmi had succumbed to her powers whereas Anakin – for the moment at least – had managed to resist them. Why had his mother not been as strong as he had been? Why had she been unable to stave off the darkness or control it like she claimed she could? Was it his fault? After all, he should have known what she was struggling with. He had sensed it! He should have helped her! Instead, he had pretended as if he hadn't known anything and let her commit an atrocity because of it.

Upon arriving at the medical ward, Obi-Wan led him through a set of sliding glass doors. Entering the facility, Anakin's attention was drawn toward a large glass window on his right. On the other side was an operating room, a trio of white-plated medical droids hovering a few feet off the air as they performed their tasks assiduously.

"Come on," Obi-Wan said to him. "You should be in there."

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the magnitude of the situation, Anakin merely nodded in response. Following Obi-Wan toward the door, they walked into the operating room and at once Anakin saw her. Padmé was lying on the bed surrounded by the three medical droids, her back propped up by a pair of white cushions. She looked thoroughly exhausted; a glistening sheen of sweat as well as prominent dark rings under her eyes evincing her fatigued state. Despite this, her eyes were twinkling and her mouth was curled upward in a radiant smile as she beamed down at a small bundle in her arms…

Anakin froze in the doorway, a wave of emotion crashing over him at the sight before him. As Obi-Wan stepped aside, Padmé looked up to see him standing there.

"Anakin," she said, clearly surprised to see him there.

Regaining control over his limbs, Anakin took a wobbly step toward her, his eyes fixated on the child in her arms. "Is it…"

"A boy," Padmé said, following his gaze down toward their baby boy. "I thought we should name him Luke."

"Luke," Anakin repeated dazedly as he reached Padmé's bedside. As he stared down at the face of his son for the first time, Anakin was struck with a ray of brilliant, untainted light. The unadulterated purity of his son permeated his core, gnawing away at the lingering darkness which plagued him. Relinquishing the fury which he hadn't even realized was still present within him, Anakin's mouth quivered before breaking out into a smile.

Without a word, Padmé picked Luke up and offered him to his father. Arms trembling slightly, Anakin reached down and received the bundle of blankets with exceptional care. Warmth – of both the physical and spiritual sense – percolated through his fingers and up his forearms as he raised Luke up toward his chest.

"He's not crying," Anakin observed, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared down at his son with the utmost fascination. "Is that normal?"

"I think so," Padmé said. "It's a good thing, too. I don't think I could handle it if he started crying as well."

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, looking up from Luke sharply.

Padmé smiled thinly at him, her eyes sparkling in the bright fluorescent lights of the operating room. "I was carrying twins," she told him. "A boy and a girl."

Stunned, Anakin's mouth fell open. "A girl?" he repeated incredulously. "But where –"

Anakin was interrupted by a soft hissing sound, indicating that the door to the operating room had opened. Turning around, Anakin was surprised to see Master Yoda walk in, knobby walking stick in hand. When their eyes met, Yoda paused and gave him an inquisitive look.

"Returned to the light, have you, young Skywalker?" the Grand Master asked.

Unsure of how to respond, Anakin stared back at Yoda with his mouth hanging open dumbly. "I… I don't know," he managed to say finally.

"Where is my daughter?" Padmé asked, saving Anakin from his humiliation. "He said that –"

"In danger, we are," Yoda interrupted brusquely, dismissing Padmé's question.

"Danger? What sort of danger?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Arrived, Elegius has," Yoda said bluntly.

Anakin's eyes widened, a jolt of fear rippling through him as he remembered the circumstances of his arrival here. His mother had told him she was going to follow him here. How could he have forgotten?

Determination eclipsed his instinctive fear as Anakin leaned back to hand Luke off to Padmé. "I will face her," he said strongly as he stood back upright and faced Yoda with his hands crossed over his chest. "It's time this came to an end."

"Face her, you need not," Yoda said.

"I have to!" Anakin insisted. "I'm the only one who can convince her to stop."

"No," Yoda said again with a shake of his head. "There is another."

* * *

Shmi wielded the darksaber in her mechanical hand as she led a contingent of clones down the hangar, the sound of their synchronized steps echoing in the high-ceilinged room. The confluence of unmitigated resolve with tenacious fury enhanced her powers so much so the very fabric of the Force seemed to be revolving around her, desperate to serve her will.

She had become what Plagueis had wanted her to become: ultimately invincible. She knew that she was fulfilling her father's will. By coming back to Polis Massa, she would exterminate the last of the Jedi and restore peace to the galaxy. Once Kenobi was dead, she would have a blank slate with which to found a new order. An order unimpaired by dogma or greed; an order dedicated to both the light and the dark; an order to bring balance to the Force and justice to the galaxy.

She was the Chosen One. Until now, she hadn't really believed it. It all made sense to her now, however. Her purpose was well-defined and her resolve was consequently firmer than ever. Never again would she be crippled by self-doubt or hampered by tenuous alliances of convenience. Sidious had been defeated, Maul had been killed, and now Kenobi and the rest of the Jedi were to be annihilated. Nobody else could stand in her way. She would rule the galaxy with Anakin and her newborn grandchild at her side.

A sudden ripple in the Force caused Shmi to stumble. Regaining her footing, Shmi came to a stop and held up her gloved left hand. The clones behind her all halted at once, settling into formation a few feet behind her. Shmi lowered her hand slowly and peered ahead where she saw an elevator. She sensed something, yet she couldn't describe what…

The doors to the elevator slid open and the jarring sound of a baby's cry pierced the air. Flinching, Shmi took a step back and narrowed her eyes. Emerging from the elevator was a tall, veiled figure, a bawling baby nestled in his arms. The hooded man took a few laborious steps toward her before stopping about three meters away.

All was still. Behind her, she heard the clones training their blasters on the mysterious figure in front of her, but she didn't feel threatened by him. On the contrary, she felt oddly secure in his presence. It was almost like…

Shmi's expression hardened as she activated the darksaber in her right hand. At the sound of the weapon, the baby in the man's arms proceeded to cry even louder than before, the shrill sound amplified in the vast hangar.

"Who are you?" Shmi demanded, brandishing the black blade in front of her.

The man didn't respond, his head drooped as he cooed something to the baby in his arms. At his gentle behest, the child ceased crying and made a soft gurgling sound, much like a laugh. Although his face was tenebrous on account to the hood, Shmi could make out the distinctive outline of a smile emerge on the man's lips. Looking up from the pacified baby, the man's eyes met hers.

"I am Darth Elegius, Supreme Leader of the Galactic Republic," she pronounced in a loud, authoritative voice. "I demand you identify yourself at once."

The man chuckled feebly at her grandiloquence and shook his head. Incensed by his flippancy, Shmi slashed her blade through the air. "Who are you?" she yelled, the steeliness of her voice belying her growing sense of unease. Why was this man not afraid of her?

Transferring the baby to the crevice of his right arm, the man raised a quivering left arm up to his head. His pale, trembling hand grabbed the top of his hood and pushed it away. As the veil descended, Shmi gasped in shock as she felt as she was greeted by an aged, yet still deeply familiar countenance.

"Hello, my love," the white-haired man said.

It was Qui-Gon Jinn.


	24. Curtain Call

_Three years prior_

_22 BBY – Geonosis_

"Because, my friend," Dooku said with an infuriating smirk. "I need to kill you."

Qui-Gon blinked in bewilderment as he internalized the bizarrely blithe delivery of this ominous statement. "You need… to kill me?" he repeated incredulously.

Dooku grinned and nodded his head. "Indeed," he said cheerfully.

Qui-Gon glanced down at Dooku's belt nervously, sure that his old master was about to strike him down. Dooku made no such aggressive move, however. "I would, erm… I'd rather you not," he said awkwardly.

"Likewise, my friend," Dooku said as he spun around abruptly and resumed walking down the winding hallway. Qui-Gon hesitated a moment longer before following after Dooku. "Believe me, it is the last thing I want to do," Dooku told him when he and Qui-Gon fell into step with each other.

"Here's a radical idea," Qui-Gon proposed sardonically. "How about you don't?"

"Oh, I don't intend to, don't you worry," Dooku said with a reassuring smile.

"I don't understand," Qui-Gon said, thoroughly bemused by his old master's contradictions.

Dooku didn't elaborate further. Taking a sharp turn off the main hallway, Qui-Gon followed Dooku down a narrow, naturally-formed corridor. He was beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic as he maneuvered through the tapering hallway, his ribs grazed on several occasions by rocks that jutted out from the encroaching walls. "Tell me what is going on, Dooku!" he shouted after his former master as he was forced to pirouette around a gnarly looking rock protruding out of the ground. "Where even am I right now?"

"Geonosis," Dooku told him, coming to a stop at a door at the end of the hall. "Lovely planet, isn't it?"

"Not really," Qui-Gon grumbled.

Dooku chuckled as the door in front of him opened vertically and he stepped in. Following Dooku, Qui-Gon exhaled in relief as he took in the spacious chamber they had entered. No longer were they surrounded by craggy walls. Instead, he was standing in a sleek silver room, plates of impenetrable durasteel lining the walls and ceiling.

"What is this? Some kind of bunker?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Quite right," Dooku said, turning back to face him. "You see that door over there?" he asked, pointing to the opposite end of the circular room. Qui-Gon nodded, following Dooku's finger to see a closed door with a control panel inlaid in the durasteel wall next to it. "That is your escape route."

"Escape route?" Qui-Gon asked. "What are you talking about?"

Dooku smiled thinly as he flourished his hand before him. "Take a seat, my old Padawan," he said. "I will explain everything to you now."

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and contemplated Dooku for a moment before complying. Sitting down cross legged on the cold metal floor, Qui-Gon looked up at Dooku who loomed over him. He felt very much like a Padawan all of a sudden, waiting for his master's instruction as he taught him about the art of meditation and the ways of the Force. Dooku's eyes twinkled as he too seemed to note the symmetry of the situation.

"Tell me, my friend," Dooku said as he began pacing in front of him. "What is it you most desire?"

Flummoxed, Qui-Gon frowned as his eyes trailed Dooku's figure. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"Everything," Dooku said at once. "Because whatever it is, I can provide it to you."

"Is that so?" Qui-Gon asked skeptically.

"On one condition, of course," Dooku said cheekily.

"That you get to kill me?" Qui-Gon guessed.

"Indeed!" Dooku said, delighted that Qui-Gon was following his convoluted, incomprehensible logic.

"Well that isn't going to work," Qui-Gon said. "My aspirations are contingent upon my survival, as you might have anticipated."

Dooku chuckled and shook his head. "I'm afraid you are misunderstanding me," he said. "You don't have to die for me to kill you." Unsure of how to respond to this absurd statement, Qui-Gon merely stared back at Dooku blankly. Had Dooku completely lost his mind? "Perhaps I'm not being translucent," Dooku observed with a subtle frown.

"You think?" Qui-Gon asked facetiously.

"Ten years ago, I brought you to meet my master on Serenno. Do you remember it?" Dooku asked.

"Of course I do," Qui-Gon said stiffly. "He stole my wife from me."

"He did no such thing," Dooku said with a shake of his head. "Shmi's decision to join him was entirely her own."

"But –"

"Let's not rehash the past, Qui-Gon," Dooku interrupted sternly. "Irrespective of how you feel about me or about my master, I am sure you want to know the full truth, do you not?"

"Of course I do," Qui-Gon said without hesitation.

"Then allow me to explain," Dooku said. Ceasing his pacing directly in front of him, Dooku swiftly sat down on the ground and assumed an identical cross-legged pose as Qui-Gon. Placing one finger on the metal floor, Dooku closed his eyes and made a soft humming sound. "The man whom you resent so virulently goes by the name Plagueis," he said, opening his eyes languidly so as to meet Qui-Gon's inquisitive gaze.

"Who is this Plagueis?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Once, he was a very powerful Sith Lord," Dooku told him. "He was the master of another Sith whom I'm sure you are familiar with."

"Sidious?" Qui-Gon asked.

"The very same," Dooku said, bowing his head for a moment. "Sidious betrayed his old master. He tried to kill him in his sleep, and he initially thought he had succeeded."

"Initially? You mean to say he found out that he failed?"

"Oh, yes," Dooku said. "I'm afraid Sidious knows all about Plagueis' whereabouts."

"But Shmi is with him! She could be in danger!"

"Shmi is incapable of being in danger," Dooku said vaguely.

"What is that supposed to –"

"Your wife is gone, Qui-Gon," Dooku informed him gravely. "Under Plagueis' tutelage, she has amassed a power inconceivable to you or me. She is no longer Shmi Skywalker. She has become Darth Elegius."

"Darth Elegius?" Qui-Gon repeated, his eyes widening at this unfamiliar name.

"She still loves you, of course," Dooku assured him. "But you may not recognize her when you see her."

"Will I get to see her?" Qui-Gon asked earnestly.

"Why of course," Dooku said. "But only after I kill you."

Qui-Gon sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. "Dooku, I told you –"

"Sidious wants you dead," Dooku interjected. "He sees you as a threat to him."

"How am I a threat to Sidious?" Qui-Gon asked, confused by this non-sequitur.

"As you already know, Sidious intends to turn your son into his apprentice," Dooku told him. "He has even chosen a Sith name for him: Vader." Qui-Gon gulped nervously at this moniker. Vader and Elegius. Those were two names he rather never have to use. "In order to achieve this, he intends to alienate Anakin from the Jedi Council and convince him to abandon the Order."

"Anakin would never do that," Qui-Gon insisted.

"Not with you by his side, no," Dooku said. "That is why Sidious wants you eliminated."

Qui-Gon looked down sharply, realizing that he had been pressing his fingernails painfully into his knees. Relaxing, he interlaced his fingers and set his hands on his lap. "He wants to take me away from my son," he said in a strained voice.

"He doesn't know that you are his father, but yes," Dooku said. Qui-Gon snarled and looked away, his disgust for the Sith bubbling to the surface. He hated Sidious for what he had done to his wife, and he hated him further still for what he intended to do to his son. "I intend to stop him," Dooku said, detecting Qui-Gon's rage. "But I need your help."

"You want to give him what he wants," Qui-Gon observed. "That's why you want to kill me."

"Yes," Dooku said simply with a bob of his head. "That is what I want."

"But why?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Because, my friend, we must get close to our enemies if we are to defeat them."

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and leaned forward a bit as he scrutinized Dooku's face. "You serve him?" he asked, aghast. "You're Sidious' apprentice!"

"Ostensibly," Dooku said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Rest assured, I don't actually intend to assist him."

"But how could you do this, Dooku!" Qui-Gon exclaimed.

"I do what I have to," Dooku said defensively. "You should be thankful. If it weren't for me, Sidious would have tasked someone else with assassinating you, and I can guarantee you they would not have the same qualms as I do with that assignment."

Qui-Gon looked away and pursed his lips, far from convinced by this point. Could it be that Dooku was messing with him? But for what purpose? If he truly was Sidious' stooge, why would he be lying to him like this? He would have killed him when he had the chance.

"So what do you propose instead?" Qui-Gon asked. "How do you intend to kill me without… killing me?"

"Plagueis taught me many things about the Force unknown to both the Jedi and the Sith," Dooku said, his eyes glinting. "I will teach you these powers."

"And why should I do this?" Qui-Gon challenged. "What do I get out of it?"

"Why, I already told you," Dooku said. "You will receive what you most fervently desire."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Your family."

Qui-Gon stared back at Dooku silently for a few moments, his mouth suddenly feeling dry and his tongue unresponsive. Was Dooku really proposing what Qui-Gon thought he was? Was he really saying that he could reunite him with Shmi after all these years? "How?" he asked finally, his voice sounding a bit husky.

"Your wife is training with my master on an asteroid field called Polis Massa," Dooku told him. "Once you have been 'killed,' I will send you there to be with her. I will come along after, of course."

"And Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked, eyes wide.

"I am sure you could convince him to leave the Order," Dooku said, sounding rather blasé about the prospect. "He will be safer with Shmi, anyway. Sidious won't be able to get his hands on your son if he is with her."

Qui-Gon unclasped his hands and began tapping his fingers rapidly against his knees, a sense of giddy anticipation rising within him. Could this really happen? Could his family finally be united for the first time in two decades? He would never doubt his former master ever again if he managed to provide him with this.

Because this was all Qui-Gon had ever wanted: a family. While he had one in sort, the three of them had never lived together at one time. The Jedi, Sidious, and Plagueis had all rendered this an impossibility. Until now, that is. Dooku was offering him the solution he had sought after for ten years.

"What do I need to do?" Qui-Gon asked eagerly.

Dooku's face broke out into an ebullient smile, clearly enthused by the alacrity with which Qui-Gon accepted his proposition. "I will show you," he said. "But be warned, this ability will come at a cost."

"A cost? What kind of cost?"

"The process of projection is extremely strenuous," Dooku said. "There is a distinct possibility that it may kill you if you are not properly trained."

"Projection? What is that?" Qui-Gon asked, dismissing the danger without much consideration.

"The ability to appear somewhere without physically being there," Dooku explained. "It requires the retransmission of your essence across the medium of the Force."

"And how does one do this?" Qui-Gon asked, licking his lips in anticipation as he leaned forward. Above all else, he was a student of the Force. The ability which Dooku was describing was tantalizing to Qui-Gon who always aspired to unlock the seemingly infinite secrets of the Force. The fact that learning this power would enable his family to be together for the first time only served to amplify his excitement.

"With practice, you will learn," Dooku said vaguely. "Unfortunately, time is not on our side."

"How come?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Sidious expects your death within a fortnight," Dooku informed him grimly. "And we may have even less time than that, depending on when the Jedi learn about what happened to you."

"Then let's get started now!" Qui-Gon said impatiently.

"We will, but I need to tell you about the rest of our plan," Dooku said, giving him a stern look. "If we intend to fool Sidious, our execution must be immaculate."

Qui-Gon sighed exasperatedly but nodded in acquiescence nonetheless. Dooku had always been meticulous in everything he did whereas Qui-Gon had never been as assiduous. He preferred taking action in the spur of the moment, which oftentimes led to conflict with his forbearing master.

"Within the next few weeks, the Jedi will arrive," Dooku said. "Whether it be to rescue you or to kill me, I don't know and frankly don't care. All that matters is that they will arrive."

"Alright," Qui-Gon said, nodding his head slowly. "Then what?"

"When the Jedi arrive, the war will finally begin," Dooku presaged. "This is what Sidious wants and that is what I will give him. When the Jedi inevitably refuse my demands that they surrender, I will present them with an ultimatum."

"An ultimatum?" Qui-Gon repeated.

"In exchange for their surrender, I will offer to spare your life."

Qui-Gon scoffed and shook his head. "They'll never accept," he said, a spark of macabre humor causing him to grin humorlessly. "Half the Council probably wants me dead anyway."

"I am well aware," Dooku said. "But I don't mean for them to surrender. I will use their refusal as justification to kill you."

"Except I won't actually be there," Qui-Gon said, beginning to understand the logistics of Dooku's plan.

"You will be here the whole time," Dooku said with a half-smile. "If the projection is performed correctly, you will be severely drained but hopefully still alive. When you regain consciousness, you will leave through that door and get on the ship I will have prepared for you."

"And that will take me to Polis Massa?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Precisely," Dooku confirmed. "Within hours after your death, you will be reunited with your wife." The corner of Qui-Gon's lips curled upward, exhilaration coursing within him at the prospect. Could it really be that he was finally going to see Shmi again after ten years or was he being naïve by getting his hopes up? "The whole purpose of this exercise is to convince Sidious he is getting what he wants when in reality he is getting nothing," Dooku continued. "He will believe that I am his loyal servant, that you are now dead, and Anakin is his for the taking."

Impressed by Dooku's diligence, Qui-Gon arched his eyebrows and tilted his chin upward. "How long did it take you to devise this plan?" he asked.

"Oh… ten years or so," Dooku said with a hint of weariness. "I was only able to delay for so long. Sidious seems to think that the time to strike is now, however, so I have no other choice but to enact my plan now."

"Do you think it will work?" Qui-Gon asked, the trepidatious tone of Dooku's voice giving him cause for concern.

"If all goes to plan, it will," Dooku told him unreassuringly.

Qui-Gon bit on his lower lip and looked away, his incipient excitement fading in the face of a burgeoning apprehension. He knew well that plans had a way of going awry, no matter how much time went into preparing them.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Dooku proposed abruptly, stirring him out of his ruminations.

"Yes, let's," Qui-Gon agreed readily.

* * *

_Three days later_

Qui-Gon had been seated cross legged in the middle of the bunker when he was struck by a wave of raw darkness unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The hair on his arms shot upright as a bitter chill permeated his core. His eyes flew open at once, inhaling sharply as the pain of the odious sensation caught him off guard.

He had been practicing as Dooku had shown him for the projection which he was about to perform in mere minutes. The practice required the utmost concentration as he attempted to transfer his essence through the medium that was the Force, while remaining grounded in the bunker for the time being. The magnitude of this disturbance, however, made him question everything. Whatever caused the disturbance must have been nearby, on the planet he reckoned. There was no way they would be able to carry out the plan now, could they? The only person he could conceive of being capable of producing such a disturbance was the very man they intended to dupe: Darth Sidious. Was it possible that Sidious had uncovered Dooku's treachery? Had he come to kill them himself?

Still breathing heavily, Qui-Gon's head swiveled toward the door when it opened abruptly. Leaping to his feet, Qui-Gon rushed toward a frazzled Dooku who had just walked in.

"What's going on?" he asked urgently. "Who's here? Is it him? Is it Sidious?"

"Settle down, my friend," Dooku assured him as the door to the chamber closed behind him. "It couldn't possibly be him."

"Then who caused that…" Qui-Gon trailed off, unsure of which noun to use. Disturbance wasn't the right word for what he had sensed. It had been more like an eruption, a cataclysmic explosion in the Force.

"I don't know," Dooku admitted, wiping his brow nervously with the back of his hand. "But whatever it is, it will not alter our plans. We must stay with the script."

"Is Anakin alright?" Qui-Gon asked in a high voice.

"He should be fine," Dooku said unconvincingly. "But we will find out soon enough. Are you ready?" Qui-Gon swallowed hard and tapped his fingers against his thigh frantically as he always did when he was anxious. "Do not worry, my friend," Dooku reassured, reaching out and placing his hand atop Qui-Gon's fidgeting one. "Everything will go smoothly if we work together on this."

Qui-Gon nodded and took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm ready," he said. "Let's do this."

Dooku met his gaze for a moment longer before nodding as well and retracting his hand. With a flourish of his cape, Dooku strode out of the bunker and off toward the arena. Qui-Gon watched his old master go, the heavily-armored door closing with a clang behind him.

Exhaling loudly out his mouth, Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he sat back down in the center of the cool metal floor. The trenchant bite of the unexplained darkness continued to afflict him, causing his teeth to chatter and his skin to clam up with goosebumps. Persevering through this unpleasant chill, Qui-Gon focused his energies on himself.

The warmth of his own Force presence warded off the darkness plunging toward him. Despite the fact that he was shivering terribly, Qui-Gon's forehead was soon beaded with perspiration as the strain of the process began to take its toll on him. Disregarding the protestations of both his mind and body, Qui-Gon attempted to channel his Force signature out of the bunker and toward the arena…

The deafening sound of an explosion caused Qui-Gon to open his eyes with a start. When he did so, he found that he was no longer seated in the bunker. Instead, he was standing in a dark hallway oriented toward a singular source of light in the distance. Squinting mightily, Qui-Gon took a few tentative steps toward the light, noting with amazement that his footsteps made no sound as he walked forward.

He stopped when the distant sounds of battle stopped abruptly. Tilting his head, Qui-Gon tried to make out what was happening but his efforts were futile.

"Master Windu!"

Qui-Gon looked up sharply, recognizing Dooku's distinct voice. This was the moment they had been waiting for. The bargain was near…

"You have fought gallantly," he heard Dooku say as Qui-Gon resumed walking slowly toward the light. He was close enough now that he could make out Dooku's hazy outline overlooking the arena below. "Worthy of recognition in the Jedi Archives. Now it is finished. Surrender, and your lives will be spared."

Qui-Gon paused once more, hoping to hear the response, yet he was unable. He knew what the response was regardless. The Jedi would never surrender.

"Perhaps one additional factor will encourage you to surrender."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and took a deep breath. These were the words Dooku had told him to wait for. Now it was time. Summoning his resolve, Qui-Gon marched purposefully toward Dooku's form. Crossing the threshold between the hallway and the platform, Qui-Gon held a hand up to his eyes to fend off the intense morning light.

Dooku turned around to see him approaching and gave him a reassuring nod. Feeling as if he were in a dream, Qui-Gon glided forward to stand by Dooku's side, his feet not leaving any prints in the sandy ground as he passed. Reaching the railing of the platform, Qui-Gon looked down at the carnage below him.

The first person he saw was Anakin. His son was staring up at him with an ashen expression, his mouth hanging slightly ajar and his eyes wide with apprehension. Qui-Gon pursed his lips before giving his son a tentative smile.

As he looked away from Anakin toward the rest of the Jedi, Qui-Gon froze in astonishment. Standing a few feet away from Anakin was Shmi Skywalker herself, yet she looked nothing like how he remembered. In each hand she was clutching an active lightsaber, one red and one blue. Although she was far away, Qui-Gon could see that her face was gaunt and her complexion pallid.

What was she doing here? Dooku had told him that she was with Plagueis on Polis Massa. Could it be that she had been the source of that disturbance? Was it possible that his Shmi could have been responsible for such a colossal disturbance in the Force? Surely that was impossible! But Dooku had told him that Shmi had become more powerful than he could even imagine. Perhaps it wasn't so ludicrous after all. But why was she here at all?

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to ask Dooku this very question when his old master stopped him. "Stick to the plan," he whispered urgently. "I will fix this."

Qui-Gon's eyes didn't leave Shmi as he nodded, feeling too stunned to respond. This was what Plagueis had done to her? He had turned his wife into a Sith in all but name. The power she exuded was unlike anything he had ever believed possible.

"I will offer you a bargain," Dooku proposed, shouting so as to make his voice clear to the Jedi several dozen feet below. "Surrender now, and I will spare Master Jinn's life."

"Never," he heard a familiar voice say. Tearing his eyes away from Shmi, Qui-Gon saw Windu standing in the center of the pit surrounded by two dozen or so other Jedi. "You will not coerce us into submission, Dooku," the Jedi Master proclaimed.

"No!"

Qui-Gon swiveled his head back to the left toward Anakin who was staring at Windu with desperate eyes.

"Master, please!" Anakin begged shrilly.

"Then you give me no choice," Dooku said quickly before Windu could potentially change his mind. Dooku had no need to make haste, however. The stoic Master had unsurprisingly been unswayed by Anakin's impassioned plea.

"Dooku, stop!"

Once more, Qui-Gon diverted his gaze, this time toward Shmi whose formerly fiery glare had transmuted into a look a terror. Qui-Gon met her eyes just as a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision. Without wasting any time, Dooku thrust upward with his lightsaber toward Qui-Gon's chest. The blade passed straight through his projected form, a faint white glow emitted at the point of contact between the blade and his chest.

As Dooku pulled his blade back, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and allowed himself to fade. He hadn't realized until that moment how strenuous the process had been. He felt himself falling, slowly at first and then precipitously a moment later. He felt a painful squeezing sensation all around him, making it impossible for him to breathe or scream. Panic engulfed him as darkness overwhelmed his senses…

Qui-Gon inhaled sharply and his eyes flew open. Taking shaky, ragged breaths, he took a few moments to reorient himself. He suddenly noticed a cold, tactile feeling on his neck, the sensation shocking him as it surged through his limbs. Jolting upright, Qui-Gon realized he had been lying supine on the floor of the bunker. The feel of the metal floor on his neck had been the first real sensation he had had since returning to his body and perhaps that was why it had surprised him so much.

As he attempted to get to his feet, however, Qui-Gon found that he was unable. Attempting to move his arms, a dull, throbbing pain ruptured in his shoulders. Qui-Gon's hands which had been supporting him slipped on the slick ground and he fell back down to the ground. Pain radiated up his back and through his limbs, immobilizing him entirely.

Dooku had mentioned that the projection would come at a cost. Could this have been what he had been alluding to? He no longer felt as if he belonged in his own body. He was detached from it in a way. It was as if when his spirit attempted to return to his corporeal form, his body had tried to reject it as if it were fighting off an infection.

With a grimace, Qui-Gon fought against his body as he attempted to reassert dominance over his limbs. His body fought back, sending pulses of paralytic pain up his spine and through his bones. After nearly ten minutes, Qui-Gon finally managed to get back into a seated position. His skin was damp and his robes soaked with sweat. With a colossal effort, Qui-Gon flipped over onto chest and began the arduous process of crawling toward the door at the opposite end of the room, fingernails scraping against the smooth, textureless floor in a desperate attempt to gain some sort of fricative support.

He made it halfway across the room when he collapsed, no longer able to continue. His fingertips screamed with agony, the nails sanded down by the floor. Pressing his cheek against the mercifully cold floor, he breathed heavily out his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn't die like this! It would be too pathetic, even for a man as humble as himself.

He needed to find the strength to get to that door. On the other side waited the future Dooku had promised him. Anakin and Shmi were through that door! He had to reach them! He would drag his body through if it was the last thing he did.

Summoning the images of his wife and son's faces, Qui-Gon redoubled his efforts. Grunting gutturally, he managed to push himself back upward with his hands. Beads of sweat dripped down his nose and onto the floor, the trail of droplets reabsorbed back into his robes as he hauled his unresponsive torso over the floor. The agony did not relent, but his resolve heightened as the door grew ever closer. Biting down hard on his tongue to divert the pain away from his limbs, he mustered one last Herculean effort by stretching his arm upward toward the remote sensor of the door…

As his fingers waved across the sensor, the door opened vertically. Groaning in relief, Qui-Gon surrendered to the protestation of his back, dropping back down to the ground with a thud.

"Master Jinn! Oh my, are you alright?"

Craning his neck, Qui-Gon saw a flustered protocol droid waddling toward him. Despite the excruciating pain he was experiencing, he found himself smiling as he met the droid's glowing eyes.

"Master Dooku told me you might be frail, but never did I expect this," the concerned droid fretted. "You stay right there. I'll be right back."

Qui-Gon chuckled in spite of himself. _Don't worry, _he thought to himself,_ I won't be going anywhere_. As the droid hurried off, Qui-Gon took a moment to see where he was. It looked like some sort of hangar, although the cave-like conditions that were ubiquitous on Geonosis made it certainly unlike any other hangar he had ever been in. Several feet away was a small, sleek shuttle. That must be the ship Dooku had had prepared for him. He had to give his old master credit. Dooku sure did account for everything.

He hadn't accounted for Shmi, however. What had she been doing there in the arena? Had she somehow found out that he had been abducted and tried to rescue him? But why hadn't she known about Dooku's plan from the get-go? Had she known what was happening, she would have been waiting on Polis Massa to greet him when he arrived. But she wasn't there anymore. For some reason, she had left Plagueis unbeknownst to Dooku. Did that mean that the plan had failed? Would Qui-Gon not actually be reunited with his family on Polis Massa after all? Had this all been for naught?

Qui-Gon purged these terrible thoughts from his mind when he saw the droid returning with a wheelchair in tow. "Sit, Master Jinn," he enjoined with a gesture of his golden hand. Qui-Gon smiled thinly and attempted to pull himself up toward the chair. The droid held the wheelchair firm so that it didn't roll away as Qui-Gon dragged himself up toward the seat. After about a minute, he finally managed to turn himself around and fall down onto the chair.

"Thank you," he said with a heavy exhale, slackening his previously ironclad grip on the leather padded armrests.

"Of course, Master Jinn," the droid said as he began wheeling him toward the shuttle. "It is my pleasure to serve one of Master Dooku's oldest and most esteemed friends."

Qui-Gon chuckled once again, amused yet also flattered by the droid's flamboyance. "What's your name, droid?" he asked in a faint voice, smiling faintly as he recalled Shmi's proclivity to asking droid's their names. She had always been more comfortable conversing with droids than with sentients.

"I am C–3P0, human-cyborg relations," the droid informed him proudly.

Qui-Gon furrowed his brow and glanced up at the droid who had begun pushing him up the ramp. He felt as if he had heard that name before, but he couldn't place where.

"When will Dooku be joining me on Polis Massa?" Qui-Gon asked Threepio when they entered the minute hull of the vessel.

"As soon as he is able, Master Jinn," the droid said. "I will find him after you depart."

"Thank you, Threepio," Qui-Gon said sincerely. "I'm ready to go now."

Threepio bowed his domed head toward him. "Very well, Master Jinn," the droid said. "The coordinates have been entered into the ship's navigational computer. You should arrive at Polis Massa within less than one standard day."

Qui-Gon thanked the expeditious protocol droid one last time as he turned around and left the hull down the ramp. Upon hearing the pattering of Threepio's treaded feet on the floor of the hangar, the ramp began to retract. When it finished, the door sealed itself with a hiss, ensconcing Qui-Gon in the compact main hold of the vessel.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply as the engines roared to life. A moment later, he felt himself get lifted up off the ground as the automated pilot began flying the ship out of the hangar. Sinking deeper into his wheelchair, Qui-Gon succumbed to his exhaustion and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

_Polis Massa_

Qui-Gon woke up after a couple of hours to find himself in hyperspace en-route to Polis Massa. With nothing else to do during the journey, he passed the time worrying about what exactly had happened on Geonosis. Had Dooku managed to tell Shmi what had happened? If he had, would that mean she would be coming with Dooku to Polis Massa soon? Was it possible that her arrival had not derailed their plan after all?

Yet Qui-Gon couldn't help but feel pessimistic. From her point of view, Dooku had just killed him. He doubted she would ever be able to trust Dooku ever again in light of that. Did that mean she wouldn't be returning to Polis Massa? Qui-Gon couldn't know the answer to that since he hadn't known why she had even left in the first place. In all likelihood, however, she had had a falling out with Plagueis. Why else would she have been on Geonosis without Dooku knowing about it?

Qui-Gon tormented over these questions for hours as he languidly stretched his limbs, jolts of pain occasionally shocking him as he continued his quest to reassert control over his body. The ubiquitous agony had since ceased, but he still didn't feel entirely comfortable in his skin yet. Hopefully with time, this bizarre sensation would abate and he would regain full function over himself, but once again he was unable to get his hopes high. He had an overwhelming proclivity toward pessimism nowadays, and it wasn't hard to explain why. Practically everything in his life had gone wrong over the course of the past ten years. Why shouldn't he expect this to go wrong as well?

He was therefore in an especially surly mood when the automated ship touched down on Polis Massa. As the ramp unfurled on its own accord, Qui-Gon was greeted by a pair of medical droids who assisted him off the ship and into the facility. Feeling debilitatingly weary, Qui-Gon merely propped his head against his fist and allowed the droids to lead him down the bright white hallways. Where they were taking him he had no idea nor much interest. He knew from the moment he arrived that neither Shmi nor Dooku were here. All he could do was wait and hope that they would arrive in time.

Qui-Gon looked up suddenly when a pair of doors opened before him and he was wheeled forward into a dark room. Massaging his neck gingerly, he glanced around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. A sudden chill penetrated beneath his skin, prompting him to discard his insouciance. Where had the droids taken him?

"Ah, Master Jinn," a voice said suddenly, the stentorian tone piercing the silence and echoing eerily in the high-ceilinged chamber. "Welcome to Polis Massa."

Qui-Gon glanced behind him and saw that the droids were no longer behind him. Gulping nervously, he wheeled himself forward toward the source of the voice, his forearms protesting at this feeble motion.

"Plagueis, I presume?" Qui-Gon asked as the tall, lithe figure of the former Sith master came into view. Plagueis was seated on his throne with a breathing apparatus strapped onto his chest just like he had been ten years prior when they had met for the first time on Serenno.

"I am impressed," Plagueis said, disregarding Qui-Gon's unnecessary question. "I thought the projection would kill you."

"It still might," Qui-Gon said as he came to a stop a few feet away from Plagueis' throne just out of the muun's long shadow.

Plagueis narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Qui-Gon's grizzled countenance. "You will live," Plagueis assured him. "You would be dead already if the process had been too strenuous for you to handle. Although I do suspect that –"

"Why was Shmi on Geonosis?" Qui-Gon interrupted, his jaw clenched angrily as he met Plagueis' probing gaze. "Did you intend for her to sabotage Dooku's plans?"

"Of course not," Plagueis growled, clearly displeased by Qui-Gon's impertinence. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said. "Why else would she have been there without Dooku knowing about it?"

Plagueis sighed and looked away, his vexation with Qui-Gon ebbing away in the face of his own weariness. Qui-Gon felt his own bellicosity enervate as he considered the old master's expression. He too was carrying the same burden as Qui-Gon. He seemed to be just as fearful of and distressed by what Shmi had become as he was.

"She abandoned me a week ago," Plagueis informed him plaintively. "She had a vision of your death and decided to save you. I tried to stop her, believe me I did. She would not be convinced otherwise, however."

"So you let her go?" Qui-Gon asked incredulously. "How could you? Why didn't you just tell her the truth?"

"I tried to," Plagueis insisted defensively. "She didn't let me explain."

"Then you should have tried harder!" Qui-Gon lambasted. When Plagueis said nothing to this, Qui-Gon felt himself rising out of his chair, his outrage propelling him upward in spite of the objection of his legs. Taking a trembling step toward Plagueis, he raised an accusative finger toward the master's chest. "You stole her from me for ten years and now you tell me that you couldn't so much as keep her here for a week longer so that we could be reunited?"

"I am sorry," Plagueis apologized, drooping his head forward and resting it in his bony hands. "I failed you. I failed her."

Surprised by Plagueis' candor, Qui-Gon stared at him for a moment before falling back into his chair. Breathing heavily from the effort of standing, he looked away from Plagueis' pathetic expression and bit down on his tongue hard. He couldn't believe this was happening. After all this, he and Shmi were still separated. Was there any way to rectify this situation? Shmi thought he was dead and he had no way to find her.

"You're going to make this right," Qui-Gon said in a tremulous, yet nonetheless firm voice. "You're going to find her."

"You know I can't do that, Jinn," Plagueis said snidely. "I am nearly as weak as you are. Neither of us are strong enough to find much less confront her."

"Confront her?" Qui-Gon repeated. "Why would we need to confront her?"

"She must be stopped," Plagueis told him gravely. "She doesn't know it yet, but she is on a path to destruction. I should have seen it sooner, but now it's too late."

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, eyes wide with apprehension. A path to destruction? That didn't sound good.

"I have seen this happen once before with Sidious," Plagueis said with a grimace as he leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath through his respirator. "The power she commands will consume her in time."

"You're wrong, Shmi is nothing like Sidious," Qui-Gon insisted firmly. Yet thinking back to that seismic disruption she had created in the Force, Qui-Gon couldn't be so sure. The Shmi he had known would never have been capable of wielding such intense darkness. Was it possible that Plagueis knew her better than he did?

"Don't believe me, if you don't want to," Plagueis said with a nonchalant shrug. "In time you will see what she has become."

"You have no one to blame but yourself for that," Qui-Gon accused, lower lip trembling as he fought off both his anger and his despair in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure.

"I know it," Plagueis said heavily. "Believe me, I know."


	25. Together Again

_19 BBY – Polis Massa_

Qui-Gon was sitting cross-legged in the center of his personal chamber on Polis Massa. Eyes closed, he was attempting to relieve his pain through the Force like Plagueis had shown him to do all those years ago. It was odd, but in many ways Qui-Gon related quite closely with the late Sith Master. Both he and Plagueis had been cripplingly enfeebled in their later life, so much so that they struggled to walk, or – in Plagueis' case – to breathe. Moreover, he and Plagueis shared a common trauma of being spurned by Shmi on multiple occasions.

For the brief few weeks he and Plagueis had been acquainted, he had therefore been on surprisingly good terms with the erstwhile Sith whom Qui-Gon could in an odd way consider as his father-in-law. Despite his initial fury at Plagueis' inability to hold up his end of the bargain, Qui-Gon's virulence dissipated quite quickly. He had come to realize that Plagueis was not to blame for Shmi's decision to leave Polis Massa. The only person who could be blamed for that was Shmi herself.

Yet sadly the two had not had much time to develop their fledgling camaraderie. Sidious arrived on Polis Massa two weeks after Qui-Gon. He had been terrified, certain that Sidious had uncovered the truth behind Dooku's plot and had come to kill him. He had been wrong, however. Sidious had come to kill Plagueis instead, but not after torturing him and demanding he reveal the identity of Darth Elegius.

Qui-Gon had watched the security holograms of the brutal interrogation after the fact, cringing viscerally when he saw Sidious strangle his former master to death. Plagueis had not cracked, however. At the very least, Qui-Gon could rest assured that Sidious didn't know that it was Shmi who was after him. This wasn't a source of much comfort for Qui-Gon, however.

For three years, he had toiled away on this desolate asteroid field, waiting for the day when something would happen – for anything to happen! He was far too weak to travel, so patience was forced upon him. The doldrums of solitude had been unbearable for Qui-Gon who had never prided himself on his forbearance. The rate of his recovery was constant, but nevertheless it was excruciatingly slow. For the first year, he had been more or less unable to walk on his own. Whenever he did need to move – which was rare considering he had nothing to do anyway – he would use his wheelchair. His muscles had atrophied considerably, making him weak when he finally did regain complete control over his limbs. Therefore over the course of the past two years he had been gradually regaining his strength, progressing steadily but slowly.

Nowadays, he could walk well enough on his own. Long distances were a struggle, however. When he had first become confident in his ability to walk, he had tried to traverse the entire diameter of the Polis Massa facility – which he estimated was about one kilometer long – but had quickly found that this task far too strenuous for him. The previous morning, however, he had managed to walk back and forth across the immaculate, featureless hallways three times. Although he had been winded by the end of this excursion, he was becoming increasingly confident that he would be able to leave Polis Massa on his own accord sooner rather than later.

He was contemplating this dull optimism when his eyes suddenly flew open. While his body had been weakened tremendously by the projection on Geonosis, his mind and his access of the Force had not been. On the contrary, he had found that his ability to tap into the Force had been improved by his physical ailment. This coupled with the perpetually stagnant activity of Polis Massa rendered Qui-Gon hyper alert to the arrival of newcomers to the base.

His natural inclination was toward fear. The last person to arrive on Polis Massa had been Darth Sidious three years prior. Could it be that the Sith Lord had returned? Had he learned of his existence and had come to snuff him out? Qui-Gon knew at once, however, that his fears were unfounded. He detected no such evil emanating from these unexpected visitors. Whoever they were, they weren't affiliated with the dark side of the Force, of this he was certain.

Closing his eyes once more, Qui-Gon contemplated the Force signature of this intruder. There was something oddly familiar about it. Something… old.

"Master Yoda," he said aloud, inhaling sharply as he felt an odd tremor in the Force. Even though his eyes were still closed, he felt as if he could see the Grand Master nonetheless. Sight wasn't the correct descriptor for what he was experiencing, but he had no other way to explain it. He could see Yoda far clearer than if he were using his own eyes.

"Master," he said again when Yoda didn't respond. "Welcome to Polis Massa."

_Who is this? _he heard Yoda say, the tremor of his voice revealing his surprise. No doubt it must have come as a shock to hear Qui-Gon's voice in his mind like that without warning.

"An old acquaintance," Qui-Gon said with a faint smile. "Or perhaps a new foe," he added ominously. "What brings you here?"

_In danger, we are, _Yoda told him gravely.

"From whom?" Qui-Gon asked.

_Elegius._

Qui-Gon opened his eyes abruptly, severing the bond between him and Yoda. Brow furrowed, he looked down at his hands which were rested against his knees. They were trembling slightly, along with the rest of his body. It seemed the brief conversation with Yoda had been especially taxing on him.

What had Yoda meant? How could it be that he was in danger from Shmi? She had no quarrel with the Jedi; her sole ambition was the destruction of Sidious, or so he thought. Plagueis' portentous prediction three years ago rang in his mind as he considered this.

_The power she commands will consume her in time._

Could it be that Shmi had turned against the Jedi? But for what reason? Had she been corrupted by the dark side like Plagueis had foretold?

He needed to communicate with Yoda in order to find out what was happening. Yet he found that he was unable to. He could neither recreate the bond nor stand upright to go find him physically. His body would not comply with either of these attempts.

And so he waited. Hours passed as he forced himself to remain patient with himself. Probing into the Force, he kept tabs on Yoda's Force presence. He was too weak to reestablish the connection, but he could identify what the Grand Master was feeling. The normally calm Jedi sage was now flustered and antsy. Never before had he seen Yoda in such a state. Something cataclysmic must have happened in order to rattle him this severely.

It was several hours later – how many, Qui-Gon couldn't know for sure – when Yoda's voice suddenly rang in his mind once more.

_An old acquaintance, you say_. _Know you, do I?_

Qui-Gon snorted at this question. Did Yoda really not recognize his voice? Perhaps that wasn't surprising. After all, Yoda along with the rest of the Jedi knew him to be dead.

"It is your old colleague, Qui-Gon Jinn," he said, deciding to drop his anonymity. He had no need to be reticent with Yoda now that he was sure that he posed no threat nor harbored any ill-intent toward him.

_Dead, Qui-Gon Jinn is, _Yoda said after a long, incredulous silence. _Not possible, this is._

"You are too close-minded, Master Jedi," Qui-Gon ridiculed. "Nothing is truly impossible."

_Understand, I do not._

"Nor do you need to," Qui-Gon said acerbically. "Tell me about Elegius."

Yoda hesitated for a moment longer before answering, evidently deliberating whether to probe deeper into the nature of Qui-Gon's miraculous resurrection. _Overthrown the Republic, the Sith has_, Yoda told him eventually. _Order the clones to kill the Jedi, she did._

Qui-Gon frowned, not believing Yoda's interpretation of events. Surely Shmi would not have done that. She had no reason to do such a thing! Nor was it in her nature to condone much less initiate such wanton violence.

"What about Anakin?" he asked.

_Skywalker? _Yoda said, clearly bemused by this question.

"Yes, Anakin," Qui-Gon said patiently. "Does he know what happened?"

_Know not, do I_, Yoda said. _Dead, I presume he is._

"You're wrong. She wouldn't kill her own son," Qui-Gon said.

_Son? _Yoda repeated.

"Did you not know?" Qui-Gon asked, flummoxed by Yoda's confusion. "Shmi is Elegius." Judging by Yoda's stunned silence, Qui-Gon could be quite sure that Yoda had not known this. But how could he not have? The Jedi had all seen her on Geonosis. Was it possible they hadn't recognized her? She had looked quite different, he could concede that much, but surely Windu would have known who she was.

_Mistaken, you must be, _Yoda said finally. _Too strong, Elegius is._

"Shmi _is _strong, you've just never been able to see it," Qui-Gon said tartly, offended on behalf of his wife. The Jedi had always underestimated her abilities. Even when she had been a rising star in the Jedi Order, the Council had always been so condescending toward her perhaps on account due to her unassuming personality.

_Know this, how do you? _Yoda asked.

"Because I am her husband," Qui-Gon told him without hesitation. "And Anakin is my son. Do you know where he is? Is he with Shmi?" Once more, Qui-Gon was met with stunned silence. Growling irritably at Yoda's inhibiting bewilderment, he pressed further. "Tell me what I need to know," he demanded lowly.

_Know not, do I of Skywalker's whereabouts,_ Yoda said. _If not dead, with Elegius I presume. Turn to the dark side, he must have done._

"Absolutely not," Qui-Gon said at once. "Anakin would never do that."

_Sure, are you? _Yoda asked.

"You think I don't know my own son?" Qui-Gon asked angrily. "If Shmi really did turn against the Jedi, which I doubt, Anakin would never have joined her. He would never condone that."

_Trust your judgement, I will, _Yoda said a bit begrudgingly. _Hope you are right, I do._

"I know I'm right," Qui-Gon said assuredly.

With that, the bond was broken abruptly once more. Startled by the suddenness of the disconnection, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He was thoroughly exhausted by this point, but something else was at the forefront of his mind. He sensed something familiar.

Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was here! He knew his old Padawan's Force signature like the back of his hand, there was no doubt that Obi-Wan was here on Polis Massa. Yoda had made no mention of Obi-Wan, although he had referred to a collective 'we' when telling Qui-Gon they were in danger. Could it be they had arrived together?

Determined to see his friend, Qui-Gon forgot that he was in no condition to walk. Standing up too suddenly, he felt a rush of lightheadedness which nearly caused him to fall over. Stabilizing himself, he stumbled across the room toward his wheelchair and collapsed into the seat. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he wheeled himself out of the room, excitement at the prospect of seeing a familiar face overpowering his body's explicit protestations against such strenuous activity.

Rolling down the hallways, Qui-Gon began to sweat profusely under the bright lights as the adrenaline began to wear off. Ignoring this, Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan's Force presence with almost manic desperation. It had been so long since he had seen anybody, he wasn't going to let his frail body prevent him from being reunited with his former Padawan.

His wheels skidded a bit as he made a sharp turn down another hallway and nearly collided with a man wearing a blue tunic. By pressing his feet against the ground and grabbing the wheels with his hands, Qui-Gon managed to prevent himself from tipping over. As he stabilized himself, he looked up to meet the gaze of an especially flustered gentleman.

"Who are you?" the stranger asked sharply.

"You first," Qui-Gon said with a frown. This was neither Obi-Wan nor Yoda, although it was reasonable to assume that he was affiliated with them somehow. Why else would be here?

"I am Bail Organa, Senator and Viceroy of Alderaan," the man informed him grandly, his broad chest puffed outward with pride.

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow as he scrutinized the man's face with heightened interest. He knew that name, although he was fairly sure they had never met face to face before. He remembered Organa being one of Senator Amidala's allies in the Senate who opposed the expansion of the Chancellor's war powers.

"What are you doing on Polis Massa?" Qui-Gon asked.

Organa opened his mouth to respond but paused, clearly unsure whether to trust Qui-Gon or not. He could appreciate the Senator's dilemma. After all, why should he have any reason to trust this stranger in a wheelchair who had only moments ago nearly collided head on with him? Organa was saved from having to answer, however, when a soft pattering sound of footsteps and the distinctive tap of a cane caused both men to turn their heads to the left.

Emerging from around the corner, Master Yoda paused when his eyes met Qui-Gon's. The two Jedi stared at each other silently for a few moments, Organa's eyes darting between the two as he remained speechless as well. Finally, Yoda broke the tense silence.

"Master Jinn, a surprise this is," he said finally. "Resurrected, have you been?"

"One would have to die in order to be resurrected," Qui-Gon responded smartly.

"Survive Dooku's blade on Geonosis, did you?" Yoda asked curiously. "How?"

"That's a story for another time," Qui-Gon said as he reoriented his wheelchair so he and Yoda could face each other directly. "Where is Obi-Wan? I know he's here."

"Gone to confront young Skywalker, he has," Yoda informed him.

"Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked. "But he's not here."

"Sense him, do you not?" Yoda asked with a tilt of his head.

"I would know if my own son arrived on this asteroid," Qui-Gon said stiffly.

"Clouded by the dark side, Anakin has become," Yoda told him. "Recognize him, you must not have."

"How dare you…" Qui-Gon trailed off as he contemplated a rupture in the Force which he hadn't noticed before now. In his excitement about detecting Obi-Wan, he must not have paid attention to it. Now that he considered it, however, he couldn't deny that there was something deeply familiar about it. In spite of the tenebrous shadow concealing it, Qui-Gon could tell that Anakin's Force signature was at the core of this vergence.

"Told Obi-Wan your assessment, I did," Yoda told him. "Save Skywalker from himself, Obi-Wan will."

"Anakin doesn't need to be saved," Qui-Gon said. "Where is he? I'll go talk to him."

"Talk to your son, you need not," Yoda said with a shake of his wizened head.

"But –"

"More than capable, Obi-Wan is," Yoda interrupted. "Needed elsewhere, you are."

"Elsewhere? What else could I possibly…"

But Yoda wasn't listening, having turned around and shuffled away back down the hallway from which he had come. Frustrated, Qui-Gon wheeled himself after Yoda and caught up with the diminutive Grand Master quickly.

"I want to see my son," Qui-Gon said resolutely, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he remembered telling Dooku the same thing on Geonosis three years ago. Much to his chagrin, It seemed that Yoda was just as definitive as his former Padawan had been about denying Qui-Gon of this request.

"If true, what you have told me is, redeemed your son will be when Obi-Wan tells him the truth," Yoda told him dismissively. "See your son later, you will."

"Then where are we going now?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Toward the light," Yoda told him vaguely.

"What light?" Qui-Gon asked, vexed by Yoda's opacity.

"Sense it, do you not?"

Once again, Qui-Gon focused on what Yoda was talking about and sensed a new anomaly in the Force. This time he could detect a brilliant ray of untainted light emanating from the opposite end of the facility. What could possibly be the source of this emanation?

"Master Yoda, you're leading us to the medical ward," Organa said suddenly from behind them. Qui-Gon glanced back at the Senator, having forgotten that he was there.

"Know this, do you?" Yoda asked.

"I left Senator Amidala there about half an hour ago," Organa told Yoda.

"Amidala?" Qui-Gon asked incredulously. "What is _she_ doing here?" How could it be that Polis Massa – which had been practically devoid of human life for three years – was now suddenly bustling with a plethora of senators and Jedi alike?

"I have no idea," Organa said. "She arrived with Kenobi."

"And what is she doing in the medical ward? Is she hurt?"

"No, she's in labor," Organa told him.

At this, Qui-Gon stopped abruptly, prompting Organa to have to pirouette out of the way so that he didn't run into the back of his wheelchair. Blinking furiously, he only vaguely registered the Senator's clamorous objection to his behavior.

Amidala was pregnant? Did that mean that… Anakin was the father? No, that couldn't be. Sure, he had known that Anakin had been in love or at least infatuated with the senator, but that didn't mean that she had reciprocated his feelings. Based on the limited interaction he had seen between them, she hadn't expressed a modicum of interest toward Anakin whatsoever.

But why else would she be here? Why had Obi-Wan brought her? It was too much of a coincidence for her arrival to be entirely unrelated to Anakin.

"Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon shook his head and looked up at the bemused Organa.

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "Lead me to her, please."

Organa glanced at Yoda who nodded. With one last perplexed look toward Qui-Gon, Organa turned around and led the way toward the medical ward.

"Great power, Amidala's child must possess," Yoda commented as he walked alongside Qui-Gon down the hallway.

Qui-Gon didn't respond to this. He knew Yoda must be right. There was no other explanation for this anomalous source of radiance, and since Amidala was not Force-sensitive herself, it was only logical to assume that the father was.

Qui-Gon was familiar with the medical facility, having spent much time here during the early days of his stay – or incarceration, depending on how one looked at it – here on Polis Massa. Therefore, when they arrived at the translucent sliding doors leading to the facility, Qui-Gon surpassed Organa and took the lead toward the operating room where he suspected the medical droids would have taken Amidala.

His suspicions were confirmed when he rolled passed the glass wall and saw Amidala lying on a bed surrounded by a trio of medical droids. Behind him, he heard Organa and Yoda come to a stop as well as they all watched curiously.

"I'm going in," Qui-Gon said after a minute, placing his hands back on his wheels and pushing himself toward the door.

"Wait, you can't go in there!" Organa protested.

"Watch me," Qui-Gon said as the glass door slid open vertically and he rolled into the operating room. As the door closed behind him, he was greeted rather rudely by several jets of pressurized air which he assumed were designed to sterilize him. Sputtering slightly, he persevered past this only to be stopped by a medical droid.

"Master Jinn, please leave the premises," it told him flatly, having already been acquainted with him in the past.

"You don't understand, I have to be here," Qui-Gon said as he looked past the droid toward Amidala. She hadn't noticed his entry on account to being entirely preoccupied with childbirth.

"Master Jinn –"

"Step aside, droid," he ordered curtly.

The expressionless medical droid somehow managed to look dejected by this brusque dismissal, but it acquiesced to his demand nonetheless and got out of his way. Rolling forward toward the bed, Amidala finally looked up to see him approaching. Her eyes widened comedically for a fraction of a second before her shocked expression transformed into a grimace.

"Almost there," he heard a droid say from the foot of the bed.

"Hello, Senator," Qui-Gon greeted woodenly.

"You're… you're dead," she said in a strained voice before belting out a particularly shrill scream.

"One more push," the droid said.

"Perhaps we should discuss this later," Qui-Gon suggested gently as Amidala nodded vigorously and shut her eyes tightly. Offering his hand to her, Amidala accepted it and squeezed painfully, applying so much force that his fingers turned purple. Qui-Gon winced but made no attempt to extricate himself from her ironclad grasp. After all, she was in far more pain than he was.

Several minutes later, Qui-Gon's ears were ringing and his hand was entirely numb. His discomfort faded in an instant, however, when he felt Amidala's hand slacken and he heard the distinctive sound of a baby's cry pierce the air. Looking up sharply, he watched in awe as the medical droids tended to the newborn.

"Well done," Qui-Gon said faintly as he looked away from the droids toward Amidala. Her face was shining with sweat and her skin was disturbingly pale.

"Are you a ghost?" she asked him.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No," she admitted before wincing once more.

"What's wrong?" Qui-Gon asked.

Amidala didn't answer, throwing her head back against the pillow and grabbing the mattress fiercely on either side of her.

"What's happening?" Qui-Gon asked in a panicky voice to the droids who had returned to Amidala's bedside. "I thought she was done?"

"She needs to deliver the other one," the droid told him in a soothing voice.

"What other one?" Qui-Gon and Amidala both said at the same time.

"You are carrying twins," the droid informed Amidala dryly. "Did you not know?"

Amidala shook her head vigorously as she clenched her jaw firmly and shut her eyes tight once more, a fresh wave of contractions catching her off guard.

"Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon looked up from Amidala to see a second droid hovering over him.

"Here," the droid said, offering him the small bundle wrapped in its mechanical arms. Qui-Gon's eyes widened as he reached up to accept the offering, his arms trembling nervously as he did so. As the droid transferred the baby into his outstretched arms, Qui-Gon was suddenly imbued with a warm, tingling sensation. Lowering the conspicuously silent child toward his chest, he felt his jaw slacken as he looked upon his grandchild for the first time.

"It's a boy," the droid told him before drifting away back toward Amidala's bedside to assist its colleagues.

A boy. He had a grandson. This was thoroughly surreal to Qui-Gon who just this morning hadn't even been willing to contemplate the possibility of seeing his family for at least another year. Now here he was holding Anakin's son, with another one on the way.

And there was no doubt that this was Anakin's son. While of course he couldn't see any of Anakin's features in the baby's pudgy face, he could sense the incipient bond between the two of them forming already. Without a doubt, this child was related to him.

Extending his finger toward the newborn, Qui-Gon watched in awe as his grandson wrapped his tiny hand around it. He struggled to keep his quivering finger steady as he relished the sensation of his grandson's warm, moist touch.

The grating sound of two simultaneous screams caused Qui-Gon to look up sharply. He watched in wonderment as the droids retreated from Amidala's bedside once more and congregated in the corner around a second wailing newborn. This child's crying was far more pronounced than its brother, who had since fallen completely silent in Qui-Gon's arms.

Finally, the droids turned back around and floated toward them. "Congratulations," the droid said as it handed the protesting child down to its mother. "It's a girl."

The baby fell silent abruptly when the droid transferred her to her mother. Pressing her against her breast, Amidala smiled thinly down at the pacified baby. "Leia," she said softly. After a few moments, the soothing effect Amidala had instilled upon baby Leia seemed to have expired and the newborn resumed crying once more.

"Let me take her," Qui-Gon offered. "You should hold your son."

Amidala looked up from Leia toward him. Giving him an appreciative smile, she offered Leia to him first before accepting her son into her arms. "Luke," she said without hesitation as she beamed down at her son. Qui-Gon watched her for a moment before looking down at his obstreperous granddaughter. It seemed he had no such calming effect on her like Amidala had.

"They're Anakin's, aren't they?" Qui-Gon asked over Leia's wailing. He already knew the answer, but he figured he ought to check.

"Yes," Amidala affirmed as she looked up from little Luke. "I suppose that makes them your grandchildren."

Qui-Gon inclined his chin and gave Amidala a curious look. It seemed Anakin had told her the truth about his parentage. That certainly implied that the two had a close relationship, considering that the only other person alive who knew this information was Obi-Wan. Of course, the fact that Amidala was carrying Anakin's children implied a certain level of intimacy between them, but it did not prove that they were romantically involved. In Qui-Gon's mind, Anakin's willingness to divulge this secret was far more conclusive evidence that the two truly did love each other.

Qui-Gon wanted to ask more about the nature of her relationship with his son, but was interrupted by the whooshing sound of the door to the operating room opening. Leia's cries were amplified further still by the sudden sound and Qui-Gon did his best to soothe her as he turned his chair around to see Yoda and Organa walking toward him.

"Congratulations, Padmé," Organa said genially to Amidala.

"Thank you, Bail," Amidala said over Leia's persistent wailing.

"That one is quite the complainer," Organa said, gesturing to Leia with a smile.

"I don't think she likes me," Qui-Gon added with a rueful look toward Amidala.

"Of course she does!" Amidala insisted. "You're her grandfather."

Yoda and Organa glanced at each other, clearly surprised by this information. Qui-Gon ignored them, however, and gave Amidala an appreciative smile.

"Master Jinn, a word?" Yoda suddenly solicited. Qui-Gon turned to look at the Grand Master and raised his eyebrows. What did Yoda want to talk to him about? Did this have to do with Anakin?

"Of course," Qui-Gon said hastily before glancing back at Amidala. "Do you want to take her?" he asked her.

"No, you take her outside," Amidala said with a strained expression. "Maybe she'll calm down a bit."

Qui-Gon snorted and nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll be right back." Transferring Leia to his left arm, Qui-Gon steered his wheelchair with his right hand as he followed Yoda out of the operating room and into the hallway. "What is this about?" Qui-Gon asked when the door shut behind him.

Yoda opened his mouth to respond, but closed it once again when Leia let out yet another garbled cry. Frowning at the newborn's impudence, Yoda took a step toward him and extended a three-fingered hand toward Leia.

"What are you doing?" Qui-Gon asked shrilly, retracting his granddaughter from Yoda's unsolicited hand.

"Quiet," Yoda said tersely, ignoring Qui-Gon's discomfort and pressing a single finger on Leia's forehead. Leia complied with Yoda's demand at once, closing her glassy eyes and ceasing her crying. Shocked by this expedient pacification, Qui-Gon looked to Yoda with his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

"What did you do to her?" he asked sharply.

"Sleep for a brief moment, she will," Yoda told him calmly, entirely apathetic to Qui-Gon's indignation.

"You had no right to –"

"Arrived, Elegius has," Yoda interrupted him, putting a halt to the tirade Qui-Gon had been about to unleash. Stunned, Qui-Gon's jaw slackened further still as his eyes widened in disbelief. Shmi was here also? Would the wonders not cease?

"What is she doing here?" he asked in a hushed voice, hoping not to wake Leia who was still sleeping in his arms.

"Come to kill the last of the Jedi, she has," Yoda said gravely. "Stop her, you must."

"She wouldn't kill you," Qui-Gon protested feebly.

"Sure of that, are you?" Yoda challenged.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth, but no response came. If he was truthful, he couldn't be sure of anything when it came to Shmi. He hadn't seen her in thirteen years. He was deceiving himself if he thought he could understand her intentions any better than Yoda could.

"Fine," Qui-Gon said. "I will confront her. Where is she?"

"Find her in the hangar, you will," Yoda said. "Take the child, I can."

"No," Qui-Gon said at once, feeling uncomfortable at the prospect of handing Leia off to Yoda. "I'll take her with me. I'm sure Shmi will want to meet her."

Yoda's ears twitched as he gave him a quizzical look, but nevertheless he didn't attempt to change his mind. It was clear the Grand Master thought that Shmi was a lost cause, entirely consumed by the dark side like Sidious had been. Qui-Gon knew better, however. While both Dooku and Plagueis had warned him that his wife was gone, Qui-Gon refused to believe it. Surely upon being reunited with him and introduced to her grandchildren, the darkness surrounding Shmi would be penetrated.

"May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon," Yoda said grimly, clearly convinced that Qui-Gon would not survive this encounter.

Qui-Gon smiled and shook his head at Yoda's apprehension. Without reciprocating this platitude, Qui-Gon wheeled past the Grand Master and out of the medical facility toward the elevator. As he rolled along, he felt a great, rejuvenating excitement course through his once-weary limbs. He could scarcely believe this was actually happening. He was on his way to meet Shmi! For three long years he had waited for this exact moment, although perhaps not under these bizarre circumstances.

Nervousness intermingled with his excitement as well, however. How would Shmi react to seeing him? Would she even recognize him? He looked much different than he had thirteen years ago – 'different' of course being a euphemism for older. While he could dismiss this concern as trivial, he couldn't as easily dismiss the other, more substantial fear.

What if she didn't love him anymore?

It had been thirteen years since they had last been together, and twenty-three years since they had last actually been together as a couple. Could it be that Shmi didn't miss him like he missed her? Had she forgotten about him altogether? Had Plagueis convinced her during her training that her relationship with him had been a mistake? After all, it was clear based on their first encounter on Serenno that Plagueis held Qui-Gon in nothing but contempt.

During his isolation over the past three years, these fears had festered in the back of his mind. Now that his reunion with Shmi was at hand, these insecurities welled up within him like a geyser, flooding his system with jitters and debilitating anxiety.

Qui-Gon was roused from his worries when he felt Leia stir in his arms. He had just reached the elevator when she awoke, her brown eyes opening a crack as she looked up at him. Pressing the button to the elevator with his free hand, Qui-Gon placed her in a more comfortable position on his lap and met her gaze with a smile.

Leia remained mercifully silent as they waited for the elevator to arrive. When the doors slid open and Qui-Gon wheeled himself inside, however, Leia resumed wailing once more, clearly distressed by the sound and motion.

"It's okay," Qui-Gon cooed gently as they began to descend toward the hangar. "Everything's going to be okay," he added, more to himself than to Leia. Perhaps detecting his anxiety, Leia ceased crying for a moment and looked up at him, her unfocused brown eyes evincing a sparkle of concern.

As the elevator slowed to a stop on the bottom floor, Qui-Gon looked up from Leia and took a deep breath. Donning his hood with his left hand, he waited with nervous anticipation for the doors to open. He didn't want Shmi to recognize him right away, lest she assumed a false persona for his sake. He wanted to see her how the rest of the galaxy saw her. He wanted to understand why it was that Yoda was so afraid of her.

He inhaled sharply when the doors to the elevator slid open and he was greeted by the bitter chill of the hangar. Propping Leia onto his left arm, Qui-Gon grasped the right armrest fiercely as he stood upright. If he was going to see Shmi, he didn't want to be in a wheelchair for it. They needed to be face to face.

Legs trembling slightly under his weight, Qui-Gon took a couple of wobbly steps out of the elevator and into the hangar. At once, Leia resumed crying at the abrupt change in temperature. Qui-Gon pressed her closer to his chest as he looked up to see a row of soldiers clad in full body white armor marching toward him. His eyes scanned the row nervously before landing on her.

When she saw him, Shmi stopped walking abruptly and held out her hand to stop the troops behind her. Qui-Gon continued to walk forward – slower now as he contemplated his wife's jarring countenance.

He had seen her three years ago on Geonosis, but he hadn't been close enough to make out her features all that well. It had been clear to him that she had changed, but only now that they were face to face did he realize just how much. Her once subtly tanned skin was practically white now, the gruesome pallor closer in hue to bone than to flesh. That pale skin was stretched tautly across her angular face, her cheeks sunken and her cheekbones protruding sharply.

In spite of these deathly features, her eyes revealed no such frailty. His attention was directed instantly toward her left eye which burned a bright gold, so intense that it appeared to be glowing. Her right eye was more similar to the gentle brown he remembered, but it had been darkened considerably – so much so that it appeared nearly black.

These mesmerizing eyes narrowed contemptuously as he came to a stop a few meters away from her. With a snarl, she drew her lightsaber and activated it in one swift motion, a jet-black blade emerging from the hilt rather than the familiar blue. The weapon crackled balefully in her left hand, prompting Leia to cry even louder than before.

"Who are you?" Shmi asked in a low, authoritative voice. Qui-Gon didn't answer her, however, electing instead to comfort Leia who was bawling hysterically.

"Shh," Qui-Gon crooned gently. "Don't be afraid. You're with your grandparents."

Soothed by his voice, Leia's wailing ceased and she made an adorable sound much like a chuckle. Qui-Gon knew she was far too young to laugh, but that didn't prevent him from smiling warmly at his granddaughter. Looking up from Leia toward Shmi, Qui-Gon's smile faltered a fraction as he eyed her blade warily.

"I am Darth Elegius, Supreme Leader of the Galactic Republic," Shmi said importantly, her chin tilted upward and her blade held stiffly by her side. "I demand you identify yourself at once."

Qui-Gon laughed, more so in bewilderment than in humor. What did Shmi think she was doing calling herself Supreme Leader of the galaxy? What had happened to the humble and unimposing woman whom he had fallen in love with over two decades ago?

Shmi was visibly vexed by his insolence, her face twitching and her brows furrowing angrily. Slashing her black blade in front of her, she shrieked "Who are you?" once again. Her shrill voice echoed in the vast hangar, and Qui-Gon let the reverberations die down before finally answering her.

When all was quiet, he reached up with his left hand toward his hood while ensuring that Leia was secure in his right arm. His arm quivered as he raised it over his shoulder which burned in protestation. Grabbing the fabric, he pushed the veil away without further delay. As the hood fell down and his face was exposed, Shmi's already-pale face was drained of whatever blood she had left and her luminous eyes widened in disbelief.

"Hello, my love," he said to his wife.

After thirteen long years, they were together once more…

Or were they?


	26. The Tyrant

_Polis Massa_

The hangar was silent save for the melodious hum of the darksaber in her left hand. Shmi's mouth hung ajar as she stared back at Qui-Gon's lined face, sure that she was hallucinating. He couldn't be here. He was dead. She had watched Dooku murder him.

The baby in Qui-Gon's arms made a grumbling sound, prompting Qui-Gon to look back down. "Deactivate your lightsaber, won't you?" he suggested, speaking softly so as not to disturb the baby any further.

Shmi blinked a few times before complying with this demand. Her flesh hand trembled as she pressed the trigger and reattached the darksaber to her belt.

Qui-Gon looked up from the baby and smiled at her tentatively. "This is your granddaughter," he said, taking a step toward her. "Her name is Leia." Shmi didn't respond, her voice having completely abandoned her. She was too astounded to do much of anything but stare.

Undeterred by her paralysis, Qui-Gon continued walking toward her slowly until they were just a few feet apart. "Do you want to hold her?" Qui-Gon asked.

Shmi shook her head at once, feeling bizarrely intimidated by this child. Qui-Gon ignored her demurral and thrust baby Leia into Shmi's arms. Shmi froze, holding the newborn in her hands stiffly as if she were holding a ticking bomb. The pure light emitted by this child was overwhelming, blinding Shmi with its intensity.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Shmi didn't necessarily agree with this sentiment, but she didn't contradict him. There was nothing beautiful about newborn babies, but if anyone could find beauty in the mundane, it was Qui-Gon.

"How?" she asked finally, her voice sounding hoarse to her ears.

Now it was Qui-Gon's turn to be taciturn, electing not to answer her question in favor of smiling down at Leia who was squirming a bit in Shmi's reluctant arms. "You're not holding her right," he said disapprovingly.

"You take her," Shmi insisted, offering Leia back to Qui-Gon.

"No," Qui-Gon said at once, holding his hands up and shaking his head. "I've held her long enough. She should be with her grandmother for a change."

"But –"

"Look," Qui-Gon interrupted. "She likes you."

Shmi looked down to see that Leia had reached up with her tiny hand and grabbed a tendril of her silver hair. She watched with wide eyes as Leia tugged on her hair a bit and placed it in her mouth.

"She should be nursing," Shmi said faintly as she gently removed her hair from Leia's mouth. "Where is her mother?"

"Upstairs," Qui-Gon said. "I'll lead you there on the condition that you leave your weapon behind."

At this, Shmi's expression hardened. "Excuse me?" she asked darkly.

"You came to finish off the Jedi, didn't you?"

Shmi shook her head and squeezed Leia tighter against her breast. "I came to save my granddaughter from Kenobi," she said. "Is he here?"

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, visibly bemused.

"Anakin told me what he did," Shmi growled. "I'll kill him."

"Shmi –"

"He wanted to use her as a hostage," Shmi said with a snarl.

"Shmi, please –"

"I'm not giving you my weapon, Qui-Gon," she said sharply. "Besides, I don't need a weapon to kill Kenobi."

"You're not going to kill Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, his jaw clenched angrily at her threat.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because he's innocent," Qui-Gon insisted. "He would never do that."

Shmi opened her mouth to argue further, but thought better of it. There was little point in arguing with Qui-Gon about this. He couldn't stop her regardless.

"Take me to Padmé," she demanded. "Now," she added firmly when Qui-Gon hesitated.

Qui-Gon glanced down at Leia once more before complying. Turning around slowly, he began to walk toward the elevator from which he had emerged a few minutes prior.

"Stay here," she ordered the clones behind her before following after Qui-Gon. Falling into step with him, she had to shorten her gait considerably so as not to surpass him. His movements were labored and slow, quite unlike the lively man she remembered.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked bluntly.

Qui-Gon chuckled feebly as they finally reached the elevator. "I was going to ask you the very same thing," he said as he pressed the button.

Indignant, Shmi narrowed her eyes and turned to him. "What are you talking about?" she asked in a hiss, speaking softly so as not to disturb Leia who seemed to be quite content in her arms.

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow and met her gaze with a skeptical smile. "You think I wouldn't find it strange that my wife is claiming to be the Supreme Leader of the galaxy?"

"No," she said, lifting her chin haughtily. "Because it's the truth. I control the Republic now, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon frowned but he didn't attempt to contradict her, turning away as the doors to the elevator opened in front of them. He shuffled in and quickly collapsed down onto a wheelchair which was conveniently stowed there for him. Shmi frowned at the pitiful display as she followed him into the lift – it seemed Qui-Gon was too weak to stand for long stretches of time. What had happened to him? His frailty was reminiscent of Plagueis' which she was well acquainted with. He too had relied on a wheelchair most of the time.

"Are you really here?" Shmi asked once the doors had closed and they began ascending.

"Pardon?" Qui-Gon asked, craning his neck lazily to look at her.

"You're dead," Shmi said. "I saw it happen. Dooku killed you."

"Indeed, he did," Qui-Gon said with a thin smile.

"Then –"

"I will explain everything in time, my love," Qui-Gon dismissed. Shmi flinched, having not heard anyone call her something so affectionate in decades.

The two fell into an awkward silence which was only interrupted by the occasional babble from Leia. Glad to have the distraction, Shmi rocked her granddaughter tenderly in her arms, choosing to focus on Leia's round face rather than on Qui-Gon's oppressive silence.

The door opened and Qui-Gon wheeled his way out of the elevator. Shmi followed him down the pristine white hallway, a bizarre sensation of déjà vu striking her all of a sudden. She had spent years of her life on this facility under Plagueis' tutelage. All the while she had been mourning the loss of her husband and son. It was fitting – or perhaps ironic – that she had returned to find them both here waiting for her rather than the other way around.

"Is Plagueis here?" Shmi asked, although she didn't expect the affirmative.

"Sidious killed him three years ago," Qui-Gon informed her plaintively. "He strangled him to death."

Shmi nodded and looked away, feeling an unanticipated wave of sorrow for the man she had called her father for ten years. She had suspected that Plagueis had died after she had left him, having no longer been able to detect his presence in the Force. The fact that Sidious had killed him came as no surprise to her either.

"He loved you, you know," Qui-Gon said unexpectedly.

"Like a soldier loves his blaster," Shmi said sardonically. "I was a tool to him. Nothing more."

Qui-Gon shook his head as they took a turn toward the medical ward. "You're wrong," he said flatly. He didn't expound upon this, and Shmi was perfectly content to let the conversation die there.

They continued onward through the glass double doors of the medical ward. Leia suddenly perked up in Shmi's arms and began to squirm as they persevered deeper into the bowels of the facility.

"She senses her mother," Shmi noted. "She must be Force-sensitive."

"Are you sure?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Absolutely," Shmi said at once. "She is strong like her father."

Once more, she detected Qui-Gon's unease toward this statement, but Shmi paid it no heed. Qui-Gon didn't understand power like she did. Compared to her, he could barely be even considered Force-sensitive. Only she, Anakin, and now baby Leia were attuned enough to the Force to truly appreciate its magnitude.

"Do you fear me?" Shmi asked directly as they approached the distinct Force presence of their son.

"No," Qui-Gon said without hesitation. "I love you."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive, Qui-Gon," Shmi said crisply.

"Believe me, I know," Qui-Gon said heavily. "I know."

* * *

"Would someone tell me where my daughter is?" Padmé asked furiously, a vein protruding prominently on her temple as she seethed at Yoda who was standing in front of the door.

"Close, she is," Yoda said vaguely. "Fear for your daughter, you need not."

"Don't you tell me –"

"Padmé, stop," Anakin interrupted abruptly.

"Anakin –"

"She's coming," he said, his heart thudding against his ribcage as he sensed the dominant presence of his mother approaching. Elegius was here, just as Yoda had said.

"Get out of the way," he brusquely ordered Yoda as he drew his weapon from his belt. Yoda complied with this demand casually, traipsing away toward the corner of the room where Obi-Wan was standing with Senator Organa. Activating the emerald blade without hesitation, Anakin held his father's lightsaber by his shoulder as he prepared to face his mother…

The door to the operating room opened without warning, the automatic door sliding away with a soft whoosh. Anakin tensed his arms and tightened his grip on his lightsaber…

"That looks like my blade."

Anakin's body froze as his heart which had been beating furiously up to that point seemed to stop. Emerging from the door was not Elegius, but a weathered old man with flowing white hair which went below his shoulders. His face was lined and his form emaciated, but the bright blue eyes were unmistakable.

"Dad?" Anakin asked hoarsely as the aged man struggled to his feet, rising out of a wheelchair.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon said with a watery smile as he took a step toward him. "My son."

Anakin deactivated the lightsaber in his hands and dropped the hilt unceremoniously to the floor. Tears streamed down his face as he rushed toward his father and hugged him with perhaps too much strength. "Ani, I can't breathe," Qui-Gon protested as he patted Anakin on the back feebly.

Releasing him, Anakin took a step back and blinked furiously as he processed the incomprehensible sight before him. His father chuckled, clearly amused by his bewilderment.

"I don't understand," Anakin said finally. "You're dead!"

"Everyone keeps reminding me of that," Qui-Gon said with a snort.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon shifted his attention away from Anakin toward Obi-Wan who was staring back at his old master with his mouth hanging open.

"Hello, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said warmly.

"Yes, yes, it's very nice. Do you mind if I come in now?"

Bemused, Anakin looked behind Qui-Gon to see his mother standing in the doorway carrying something in her arms. At once, Anakin remembered his earlier intentions and summoned his lightsaber back to his hand and activated the blade.

"Anakin, put that away," Qui-Gon said sternly as he stepped aside, allowing Shmi access into the room. Stepping around the wheelchair in her way, Shmi entirely disregarded Anakin as she walked toward Padmé's bedside.

"Stay away from her!" Anakin bellowed, stepping quickly in between her and Padmé who was watching the proceedings with wide, terrified eyes.

"Shh," Shmi shushed him with a frown. "You'll bother Leia."

"Leia?" Anakin repeated.

"And put that lightsaber away," Shmi said strictly. "That's an order."

Utterly bewildered, Anakin glanced at Qui-Gon who nodded. "Listen to your mother," he said with a half-smile.

Complying with his parents' request, Anakin deactivated the blade once more and reattached it to his belt. Placated, Shmi's stony expression softened and she took a step toward him.

"Here," she said, extending her arms to him. "Take her."

Only now did Anakin look down to see that Shmi was holding a baby in her arms. Stunned, Anakin accepted Shmi's offer with the utmost care. As she was transferred into her father's arms, Leia squirmed a bit and snuggled up close to his chest.

"Is she alright?" Padmé asked in a panicky voice.

"She's okay," Anakin said faintly, feeling slightly lightheaded as he turned around to face Padmé. With everything that had just happened in the past thirty seconds or so, it was a miracle he had been able to maintain calm as well as he had. Perhaps Leia had instilled a purpose within him – despite the insanity of what had just happened, he was nevertheless determined to preserve a modicum of stability for his daughter's sake. Therefore, while his legs shook and his head spun, he kept his arms still and strong as he held Leia securely to his chest.

Perhaps that was what it was to be a parent, Anakin thought suddenly. The sense of responsibility he felt toward his two newborn children superseded everything else. Even though he desperately wanted to ask his parents what was happening, he forced himself not to so as to devote his full attention to Leia.

"She seems a bit antsy," Anakin noted when Leia continued to squirm in his arms.

"She needs her mother," he heard Shmi say from behind him. "Why don't you take the gentlemen out into the hallway, Qui-Gon? Leia needs to nurse."

"Very well," his father said.

"Wait!" Anakin said in a high voice. "I'm not leaving you alone with Padmé. No way!"

"Why not? Do you not trust me?" Shmi asked innocently.

"No!" Anakin exclaimed. "Obi-Wan told me what you did! You had the Jedi killed!"

"I did no such thing," Shmi growled.

"Don't lie!"

"Anakin, please," Qui-Gon interrupted, holding his hand up to Shmi to stop her from retaliating. "Padmé will be fine with Shmi."

"But –"

"I'll be fine, Ani," Padmé assured him. "Shmi won't hurt me."

Anakin turned back to her and faltered. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Padmé nodded as she readjusted Luke in her right arm. "Give me Leia," she said, gesturing with her now-free left hand. "You go talk with your father."

Anakin hesitated for a moment longer before acquiescing. He lowered Leia down to her mother, but not before giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. Upon ensuring that Padmé was capable of holding both children securely, Anakin turned around and met Shmi's gaze.

"We'll be right outside," he said in a husky voice.

Disregarding his obvious apprehension, Shmi pushed past him toward Padmé's bedside. Anakin watched for a moment longer before allowing Obi-Wan to pull him away out of the room and into the hallway. As the door closed behind him, he followed the procession of men down the hallway so as to give Padmé and Shmi some privacy. At the head of the group was Qui-Gon who led them away a few dozen meters before spinning around in his wheelchair to face them all.

"I can't believe this," Obi-Wan said, crossing his arms in front of him as he came to a stop next to Anakin. "How can you be alive?"

Qui-Gon glanced at Yoda before responding, his eyes twinkling with characteristic mischief. "It's quite simple, really," he said with a grin. "I never died."

"But how?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously. "I saw Dooku kill you with my own eyes! He stabbed you in the chest!"

"That is what he wanted you to see," Qui-Gon said vaguely.

"What does that mean?" Anakin asked.

"I will explain everything in time, but we have far graver questions to address first," Qui-Gon said seriously.

"I disagree," Anakin objected, a sudden burst of anger surging within him at this diversion. "You abandoned me! You let us think for three years that you were dead!" Qui-Gon pursed his lips and gave Anakin an inquisitive look, yet he offered no explanation. "I… I needed you," Anakin said, his voice trembling as he raised an accusative finger to his enfeebled father. "You let me go through all of this alone."

"Anakin, calm down," Obi-Wan said in his ear.

"No!" Anakin yelled, turning on Obi-Wan quickly. "I have every right to be angry!"

"You do, but –"

"He let us grieve needlessly for three years!" Anakin exclaimed. "How hard would it have been to just send us a message?" he asked to Qui-Gon who was looking back at him with a pained expression. "A sign that you were still alive!"

"Anakin, I'm sorry –"

"That's not good enough!" Anakin roared, but his vehemence was undercut by the tears welling up in his eyes. He was angry, yes, but distraught just as much. Why had his father forced him to endure the agony of watching him die? Had he not even considered how traumatizing that had been for him? Did he think that he could just waltz back into his life now and think that nothing had changed?

Unswayed by this emotional display, Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and got to his feet arduously, his arms shaking as he pushed himself upward with the armrests. "You have been tainted by the darkness, my son," he said as he took a step toward him. Caught off guard by this assessment, Anakin lowered his finger and opened his mouth to defend himself, but Qui-Gon cut him off. "Your mother has been warped by power and greed," he said solemnly. "You must not let that happen to you as well."

"Am I not allowed to be angry?" Anakin asked incredulously. This didn't sound like the Qui-Gon he remembered. His father had always been understanding and forgiving. The man before him resembled Master Windu far more so than he did his father.

"Your anger is unfounded," Qui-Gon growled, taking another step toward him and thrusting a finger into his chest. "You have given me no time to explain myself, yet you have already made up your mind that I betrayed you." Anakin shook his head, but Qui-Gon continued. "You are looking for an excuse," Qui-Gon said, pressing his finger more forcefully into Anakin's chest before retracting it. "You want to be like your mother. You want to succumb to the dark side."

"That's not true at all!" Anakin protested in aggrievement.

"You've tasted it, haven't you?" Qui-Gon asked. "The power of the dark."

"What do you know of the dark side?" Anakin challenged, studiously diverting the conversation away from this troubling topic. The truth was that Anakin had tasted the darkness just like Qui-Gon had said, and he was afraid of himself because of it.

"I know enough to know that you crave it," Qui-Gon said. "I see what your mother has become. Don't you follow in her footsteps."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Anakin said bitterly. "You haven't seen me for three years. You barely know who I am anymore."

Qui-Gon flinched and took a step back, the trenchant remark hitting him hard like a slap across the face. At once, Anakin felt guilty, but that didn't mean he regretted what he said. Who was Qui-Gon to tell him what to do after having abandoned him for three years?

"Shmi must be stopped," Qui-Gon said finally as he walked back to his wheelchair and sat down heavily. "At the very least, you agree with me on this, do you not?"

"Of course I do," Anakin said, indignant at the implication.

"Then let us work together," Qui-Gon implored. "Hate me all you want, but please listen to me at least for now."

Anakin hesitated as he glanced over at Obi-Wan who was watching him with trepidation. "I don't hate you, Father," he said softly, returning his gaze to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon stared at him silently for a few moments, his expression unreadable. "You, me, and your children are the only people in the galaxy whom she cares about," he said finally, choosing not to address Anakin's admission. "It is therefore up to us to convince her to relinquish power."

"And then what?" Organa asked, inserting himself into the conversation. "Restore power to the Senate?"

"I have no idea," Qui-Gon said, rubbing his forehead wearily. "Politics aren't my arena, nor are they Shmi's. First we have to convince her to stop, then we can talk about the future."

Organa nodded, a subtle frown on his lips evincing that he was far from reassured by Qui-Gon's vague statement. "Convince her, can you?" Yoda asked after a tenuous silence.

"If Shmi is still in there, she will listen to us," Qui-Gon said as he stared blankly at the floor. "If she has been consumed by Elegius, there is little I can do."

* * *

"How can I be a mother if I can't even breastfeed?" a deeply frustrated Padmé bemoaned as she passed Luke off to Shmi who was seated in a chair by her bedside.

"Don't say that," Shmi said sternly as she accepted the ever-calm Luke and nuzzled him against her chest. "You're under a lot of stress right now. In time, it will work. I guarantee it."

Padmé shrugged morosely and sighed as she covered herself up. The typically refined senator looked especially flustered and she was clearly exhausted. Her skin was uncommonly pale and strands of unkempt hair were sticking to her sweaty forehead. Reorienting Leia with her left hand, Padmé half-heartedly attempted to brush the hair out of her face with her right as she turned to Shmi with skeptical eyes.

"I mean it," Shmi said candidly. "I wasn't able to feed Anakin for months after he was born."

"Really?" Padmé asked, her interest piqued.

"I was captured by slave traders on Tatooine just before I gave birth," Shmi recounted, frowning slightly as she recalled the dark period in her life which she had all but blotted out of her memory by now. "I was terribly stressed, as you can imagine. You've had to endure similar hardships."

"Nothing compared to you," Padmé said as she cradled Leia with both arms once again. Shmi smiled faintly, feeling a gush of affection toward the younger woman. It was strange, but it seemed that out of all her relationships, hers with Padmé seemed to be the most stable at the moment. That was certainly ironic considering how much she had despised her son's lover just a week prior.

"Shmi, can I ask you something?" Padmé asked suddenly.

Shmi looked up and refocused her eyes. "Of course, dear," she said warmly.

Padmé met Shmi's gaze and hesitated, no doubt intimidated by her glowing eyes. Looking back down at Leia, Padmé regained her resolve. "What really happened on Coruscant?" she asked, speaking to Leia rather than to Shmi, clearly too intimidated to ask this question directly to her face. "Anakin said… he said that you had the Jedi killed."

"Anakin is wrong," Shmi said in a low voice. "I did not give any such order."

"But then –"

"You should rest," Shmi interrupted curtly. This was not something she wanted to get into with Padmé right now. In fact, she'd prefer to never have this conversation with her at all, if that was possible.

Standing up abruptly, Shmi walked over toward the crib in the corner of the room which the medical droids had provided. Setting Luke down gently into the crib, she turned back toward Padmé. "Have the med droids bring a formula for the babies," she instructed gruffly.

Padmé nodded nervously and watched as Shmi strode out of the room expeditiously. As the door closed behind her, Shmi let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been keeping in. Why had Padmé's question bothered her so much? Was it because she didn't want to disappoint Padmé with the truth? No doubt their thriving relationship would be irreparably tarnished if Padmé learned the full truth, regardless of how justifiable Shmi found her actions. Padmé would indubitably not see things from her point of view. Therefore she had merely decided to run rather than attempt to explain herself.

With a growl, Shmi shook her head irritably as she walked away from the operating room with heavy steps. She was doubting herself once again. That was something the old Shmi Skywalker did, not Elegius. Elegius would not allow Padmé to deter her. She knew that what she was doing was right. She was founding a new order at Plagueis' behest. Everything was going to be set right now that Sidious was gone and she was in power. Padmé would come to understand this in time.

As Shmi took a turn down the main corridor of the medical ward, she faltered when she saw Anakin walking toward her. He too seemed to do a double take, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he reassumed a neutral expression.

"Where are you going?" Shmi asked a bit sharply.

"To be with my… to be with Padmé," he said haltingly. "How is she?"

Shmi narrowed her eyes and scrutinized Anakin's fidgety expression for a moment. She wasn't sure what had happened between them, but Anakin no longer seemed to trust her. He had been prepared to fight her when she had arrived, although Qui-Gon's miraculous reappearance had prevented that from happening. But why had he drawn his weapon at all? Had Yoda and Obi-Wan lied to him about her? And if so, why had he believed them?

"She's exhausted," Shmi told him. "I'm sure she will appreciate your company."

Anakin nodded and proceeded to walk past her without further comment. Shmi considered stopping him to ask him what was wrong, but thought better of it. She watched him turn the corner and disappear from sight, frowning as she contemplated this development.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Shmi spun around and resumed her march out of the medical ward. Following Qui-Gon's familiar yet alarmingly weak Force signature, Shmi took a right turn out of the medical ward and toward a conference room. The door slid open vertically as she walked in, prompting the four men inside to look up quickly.

Seated at the head of the table with his back to her was Qui-Gon, a contemplative expression on his face as he stroked his beard absentmindedly with his right hand. Seated on the right side of the table was Obi-Wan and a broad-shouldered gentleman who Shmi didn't recognize. Seated opposite Obi-Wan on the left side of the table was Yoda. The diminutive Grand Master was propped up by a couple of pillows so that he could be eye level with his peers at the table.

"How are the babies?" Qui-Gon asked her without the awkwardness with which Anakin had addressed her moments earlier. It seemed he was far more comfortable in her presence than she was in his.

"Fine," she said abrasively as she walked around the left side of the table and took a seat on the opposite end facing Qui-Gon. "I want answers and I want them now," she said, getting straight to the point. "How are you alive?"

Qui-Gon chuckled and shook his head, incensing Shmi who wasn't used to being dismissed like this. "Do you remember when I found you on Tatooine all those years ago?" Qui-Gon asked suddenly.

Shmi blinked a few times, bemused and irritated by this non-sequitur. "Of course I do," she said. "What does that –"

"You're no doubt feeling exactly as I was then," Qui-Gon said with a smile, evidently apathetic to her exasperation. "I was sitting right across from you just like we are now, yet you wouldn't tell me anything. It drove me crazy." Qui-Gon looked away toward Obi-Wan, a distant expression in his eyes as he recollected. "Anakin and Padmé sat right where you sit now, Obi-Wan," he said. "They were just children at the time. How time flies," he concluded with a saccharine sigh.

"Are you done reminiscing?" Shmi asked brusquely. Surprised by her vehemence, Qui-Gon looked back at her with eyebrows raised. "Answers. Now," she demanded.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and tilted his head back. "Can you at least wait until Anakin gets back?" he asked. "I'd rather not have to tell the story twice."

Shmi narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless didn't raise an objection. It wasn't an unreasonable request. "Fine," she said begrudgingly.

Qui-Gon nodded appreciatively and tapped his fingers against the table in front of him. "While we wait, why don't you tell us what you've been up to?"

"On Coruscant?" Shmi asked suspiciously.

"No," Qui-Gon said. "At least, not right away, I mean," he amended. "It's been thirteen years since we've seen each other. I want to know what you did all that time."

Shmi tilted her head as she contemplated Qui-Gon's earnest expression. She had long since learned to be skeptical about others' intentions, including those closest to her such as Anakin or Maul. Cynicism was critical to survival and preservation of power. Plagueis had taught her as much.

With Qui-Gon, however, she never had any reason to be suspicious of him. Sure, they hadn't seen each other in thirteen years, but that didn't mean her trust in him had eroded. On the contrary, it was thoroughly disarming to see both how genuine he seemed and how willing she was to place her faith in him.

And therefore she spoke. Never before had she divulged the specifics of her training with Plagueis – not even with Anakin – but now she found herself recounting that period of her life with vivid detail to Qui-Gon. Yoda and Obi-Wan watched her all the while, but she paid them no heed as she spoke directly to Qui-Gon – to her husband.

She hadn't realized how much she had missed this. Qui-Gon had been her rock back when they had been married and together oh so briefly on Coruscant. She had been able to talk to him about anything and everything. It was with his assistance that she began to emerge from her shell and gain confidence in herself for the first time. Without him, she never would have become the woman she was today.

Yet over the past twenty-three years, she hadn't had anyone to talk to. She had had Anakin and Plagueis, of course, but they couldn't serve her in the way Qui-Gon could and nor did they understand her in the way he did.

"Do you really believe it?" Qui-Gon asked when she had finished telling him about her training with Plagueis.

"Believe what?" Shmi asked.

"What Plagueis said? That you can master both the light and the dark?"

"Of course I do," Shmi scoffed. "I _am _the master of both sides of the Force, Qui-Gon."

"Are you now?" Qui-Gon said skeptically.

"Do you question my power?" Shmi asked ominously.

"Not at all," Qui-Gon said hastily. "I doubt the duality of that power, that's all. Are you truly in balance between light and dark? To me, you seem far more dark than anything else."

Shmi scrunched her nose, unsure how to feel about this assessment. Was she more dark than light? That's certainly what Maul had thought.

"Impossible, this is," Yoda commented, interjecting himself into the conversation for the first time. "A balance between light and dark, there cannot be."

"So says the Jedi," Shmi sneered. "You're crippled by your dogmatism, Master Yoda. You don't understand the Force like I do. Nobody does except Anakin and myself."

"Anakin doesn't even understand himself, much less the Force," Qui-Gon quipped. "He is powerful, yes, but that doesn't mean he is knowledgeable."

"Equate power with knowledge, you must not," Yoda added.

Shmi shrugged, dismissing this critique as irrelevant. Yoda and Qui-Gon could talk all they wanted about the difference between wisdom and power, but that didn't mean that they could ever come close to appreciating the extent of the Force like she could and how Anakin would in time.

"Even if you have managed to strike a balance, which I doubt, that doesn't mean Anakin can," Qui-Gon said. "Surely you must sense it. The boy is on the precipice, Shmi, and you were the one who pushed him there."

"That is exactly where he belongs," Shmi said. "In the median between light and dark."

"But how long will he be able to keep up this balancing act?" Qui-Gon asked gravely. "He's not like you. He doesn't have control over himself."

"Then I will control him myself," Shmi growled. "Anakin will not succumb to the dark side under my watch. Besides, he has no reason to anymore. Sidious is gone and he has a family to look after now."

"You really think that nothing will change?" Qui-Gon asked. "We need to steer Anakin back to the light before it's too late."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Shmi dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"No, you're the one who doesn't understand," Qui-Gon said provocatively. "Your mind has been so warped by Plagueis that you've forgotten who you are!"

"I know exactly who I am!" Shmi roared, indignation at Qui-Gon's insolence propelling her out of her chair and onto her feet. "I am Elegius and I am the Supreme Leader! Just because you don't like it doesn't make it any less true."

"You're not a murderer, Shmi!" Qui-Gon countered, getting to his feet as well as he pressed his hands against the table to stabilize himself. "Nor are you a tyrant! The woman I know never would have done the things you have done in Elegius' name."

"That woman is gone," Shmi said with a shake of her fist. "I suggest you come to terms with that." Upon delivering this vicious remark, Shmi pushed her chair away with an agitated flick of her wrist and stormed out of the room, leaving a dejected Qui-Gon in her wake.

* * *

"Are you still angry at me?" Anakin asked nervously.

Padmé exhaled heavily as she tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes half closed as she struggled to stay awake.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Anakin," she said wearily.

Anakin swallowed hard and nodded, knowing that it wasn't wise to prod any further. Now wasn't the time for this conversation, but eventually they would need to have it.

As Padmé closed her eyes and sank back deeper into the pillow, Anakin leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead. "I love you," he whispered before standing back upright. "I won't let you down again."

With that, Anakin turned around and walked out of the operating room, turning the light off as he left. Upon entering the hallway, he came face to face to the last person he wanted to see right now: Shmi.

"How is she?" she asked when the door closed behind him.

"Sleeping, for now," Anakin said stiffly as he made to march past her.

"And the twins?" Shmi asked, falling into step with him much to his chagrin.

"Asleep also," he said shortly.

"That's a miracle," Shmi said with a chuckle. "You know, when you were a baby, you wouldn't sleep unless –"

"Why did you lie to me?" Anakin interrupted abruptly, spinning to face her when they had exited the medical ward.

Surprised, Shmi raised her eyebrows and took a half step back. "Lie? I didn't –"

"Obi-Wan told me everything," Anakin said with biting virulence. "You had the Jedi snuffed out even though you told me you wouldn't. You promised you wouldn't!"

"I made no such promise," Shmi said, her surprise fading as she raised a finger toward his chin. Intimidated, Anakin swallowed nervously and felt a sudden urge to run away as his mother's incandescent eyes bored into him. "Nor did I give any such order."

"So you mean to tell me the Jedi all died on their own accord?" Anakin asked, regaining his confidence.

"No, I mean to say that Sidious was the one who ordered their assassinations," Shmi countered, lowering her finger and crossing her arms in front of her chest. "He gave the order just before you arrived."

Anakin blinked a few times, sensing the veracity of her words yet not entirely willing to believe it. "But if you knew… why didn't you stop it? You let it happen."

At this Shmi looked somewhat uncomfortable as she bowed her head away from his gaze. "I did," she said softly. "I let it happen."

"But why?" Anakin asked, outrage bubbling back to the surface at this admission.

"It needed to happen, Anakin," Shmi said, although she didn't sound as confident as she normally did. "The Order was a flawed institution; you and I both know that."

"But that doesn't mean they all had to die!" Anakin exclaimed.

"Perhaps not, but that's what happened," Shmi growled. "It's time to found a new order, Anakin."

"Not on the ashes of the old one!" Anakin protested. "How can you possibly condone what Sidious did, Mom? You're condoning mass murder!"

"I'm doing what has to be done!" Shmi bellowed, causing Anakin to shrink away from her in fear. "I am the Chosen One, not you! I am the one who will bring balance to the Force, and the first step in bringing that about is the destruction of the old order. I have eliminated both the Sith and the Jedi! We now have a clean slate to work with." When Anakin scoffed and shook his head, Shmi continued with even greater vehemence. "Stop holding on to the past, Anakin!" she exhorted him, her voice shaking from sheer exertion. "Let it die! It's time to look to the future!"

Anakin shook his head vigorously as he stepped away from her. He couldn't allow her to get away with this. Padmé would never forgive him if he did, and he was done prioritizing his mother over her.

"You're a monster, Mom," Anakin said, causing Shmi to flinch at the accusation. "Maul was right about you."

Shmi recovered quickly and elevated her chin at him, a deep scowl imprinted on her mouth. "The ends justify the means," she said, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince him.

"You're wrong," Anakin said with a shake of his head as he continued to back away from her down the hallway. "I won't let you do this, and neither will Qui-Gon."

"Is that so? Do you intend to stop me?" Shmi asked acrimoniously.

"No," Anakin said, coming to a stop several meters away from her, his back facing the entrance of the conference room where Qui-Gon and the others were waiting. "We intend to save you." Anakin paused, contemplating his mother's expressionless countenance before adding his pivotal corollary. "And if you don't let us, you will never see me nor Qui-Gon ever again."

With that, Anakin turned around and stormed into the conference room, leaving a stunned Shmi alone in the hallway.


	27. Torn Apart

_Polis Massa_

_We intend to save you. And if you don't let us, you will never see me nor Qui-Gon ever again._

Shmi stared sightlessly down the empty hallway, her body frozen and her forehead perspiring as she considered Anakin's fateful words. Her initial instinct had been to storm after Anakin into the conference room and demand that he apologize to her. He had no right to speak to her like that! She would not tolerate such insolence from her son!

Yet she knew she couldn't do that. What would it accomplish? She could feel Anakin slipping away from her, and after everything she had done, it was likely that one last offense on her account would push Anakin away forever.

And Shmi couldn't let that happen.

The past twenty-three years of her life had been dictated by one desire: to see her son safe. Now that Sidious was gone and the threat on Anakin's life also gone, however, Shmi had lost her purpose. Perhaps that was why she had decided to seize the Republic and declare herself Supreme Leader; she hadn't done it to fulfill Plagueis' wishes, but because she simply didn't know what to do with her powers anymore.

But that wasn't true either. She did truly believe what she was espousing: the Republic needed to be overthrown and the old order destroyed. Otherwise her victory over Sidious would not truly be absolute. Plagueis had told her as much after she had lost consciousness in Sidious' office.

So in that sense, Shmi was still attempting to defend Anakin. Sure, the immediate threat to him had been eliminated, but that didn't mean that his safety was permanent from here on out. Besides, even if Anakin himself was no longer in danger, that didn't mean that his children or their children would be. She had the opportunity to ensure galactic peace for generations to come. It would be foolish for her not to secure that for her family!

But how exactly would she accomplish this? Plagueis had been infuriatingly vague as always. Restore balance to the Force? Harmonize the light with the dark? What did that mean and how was she supposed to do it?

Shmi growled in frustration as she finally refocused her eyes and looked away from the empty hallway she had been staring at blankly for several minutes. Rubbing her eyes, Shmi shook her head in a vain attempt to clear her head of the incessant maelstrom of doubts and confusion swirling perpetually in her mind.

She didn't like being unsure of herself. For the first three decades of her life, she had been crippled by self-doubt. Qui-Gon had helped ameliorate her inhibitions a bit, but she had only escaped the confines of her own mind when she had begun training with Plagueis. Her father had shown her how powerful she could be, and it was with his help that she developed into the confident, decisive woman that she was now.

Now she felt herself reverting back to her inferior, younger self. It had been so easy to be confident and sure of herself back when Sidious was her enemy, but now she had nobody to confront but herself. Anakin, Qui-Gon, and even Padmé's disappointment with her wracked her conscience, rendering herself unconfident and afraid once more.

She hated them for that. No matter how much she loved them, she couldn't deny how angry they made her also. Why couldn't they understand why she was doing this? Couldn't they appreciate the fullness of the situation like she could?

She would simply have to convince them, Shmi decided. By dint of sheer determination, she would sway them to her side. Anakin would cease to be afraid of her; Qui-Gon would love her for who she had become and not for who she had once been; and Padmé would come to see Shmi as someone she could trust and respect.

There was no alternative to this. Shmi knew she couldn't live without them. She wasn't as naïve as she once was; she knew that the only thing that differentiated her from Sidious was her love for her family. Without them, she would be no better than him.

Therefore, Shmi found herself striding forth into the conference room where Anakin had gone a few minutes before. As she entered, she saw the same arrangement as earlier with the sole exception being Anakin's presence on the left side of the table seated next to Master Yoda. It seemed they had all agreed that Shmi deserved to sit at the head of the table, and rightly so. That was where the Supreme Leader belonged, after all.

The five men all watched Shmi with a mixture of trepidation and bitterness as she walked around the table toward her esteemed seat. Shmi eyed each one of them – with the exception of Anakin whom she didn't feel comfortable making eye contact with – before resting her gaze on Qui-Gon who was seated opposite her.

"Time for you to get talking," she said acerbically as she finally sat down, her back stiff against the plastic backing of her chair.

"I suppose you're right," Qui-Gon said with a faint smile, he alone expressing no apprehension whatsoever to her ill-temper. "This may take a while," he added.

"I don't care how long it takes," Shmi said with maintained astringency. "I want to know where you've been these past three years."

"Right here," Qui-Gon said at once.

"For three whole years you've been alone on this rock?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously.

"For the most part, yes," Qui-Gon affirmed wearily.

"What do you mean for the most part?" Anakin asked with a frown.

"I wasn't alone at first," Qui-Gon said, now speaking directly to his son. "I had company for the first few weeks."

"Plagueis," Shmi said. It wasn't a question.

Qui-Gon nodded and looked away from Anakin to her. "He was waiting for me when I arrived three years ago," he said.

"But why did you come here at all?" Shmi asked. "And how did you even find this place? The only people who knew about this location were Plagueis, myself, and…"

"Dooku," Qui-Gon provided when she trailed off. Stunned, Shmi realized her mouth was hanging open and she promptly closed it. Dooku had told Qui-Gon about Polis Massa, and since Qui-Gon hadn't perished by his former master's blade that meant that Dooku hadn't betrayed Plagueis and herself like she thought he had.

"I killed him," she said hoarsely, guilt crashing down on her as she realized her grave mistake.

Qui-Gon nodded somberly and looked down at the table. "I suspected as much," he said quietly. "When he didn't arrive, I figured he hadn't survived."

"I don't understand," Anakin said, his expression evincing his utter confusion. "I thought Dooku was Sidious' apprentice?"

"Dooku despised Sidious," Qui-Gon told his son. "Despite that, he believed that the only way to defeat him was to get close to him. Therefore when Sidious ordered Dooku to kill me, he was placed in a difficult situation."

"Why would Sidious want you dead?" Anakin asked.

"To alienate you," Qui-Gon said. "I foiled his plan, you see. Sidious planned to abduct you on Tatooine when you were a child, but your mother and I managed to get you off the planet beforehand. When I brought you to Coruscant and convinced the Council to allow me to train you, Sidious knew he had to kill me eventually. Dooku was tasked with this assignment. He delayed for as long as he could, but finally Sidious twisted his arm. He tasked a bounty hunter with capturing me and taking me to Geonosis. There he told me what needed to be done, and I agreed."

"But you hated Dooku," Anakin pointed out. "Why did you agree to help him?"

"Because he offered to help me in turn," Qui-Gon explained, a pained expression on his face as he finally looked back up from the table and locked eyes with Shmi. "He told me that if I agreed to partake in his plan, he would be able to reunite me with my family."

A second, more terrible wave of guilt crashed over her when she met Qui-Gon's gaze. This was her fault, she realized. Had she not succumbed to her rage and not killed Dooku, everything could have been set right. Instead, she had snapped and murdered the man who had been nothing but magnanimous and loving to her. And she hadn't simply murdered him – she had torn him limb by limb and strangled him so forcefully that his neck had quite literally folded in on itself. It had been a horribly brutal way to die.

"The plan was that I would project myself to the arena so as to make it seem as if I was really there," Qui-Gon continued after a brief silence. "After Dooku had supposedly killed me, I took a ship to Polis Massa where I was told I would meet you."

"But I wasn't there," Shmi whispered, speaking mostly to herself.

"You projected yourself?" Anakin asked. "What does that mean?"

Shmi tuned out Qui-Gon's explanation as she looked down at her hands which were shaking against her knees. She knew all about Force projection, as Plagueis had been the one to teach both Dooku and herself about that particular power. Why had she not considered the possibility that Qui-Gon had been projecting himself? Why had she immediately assumed the worst when Dooku ostensibly killed her husband?

But this wasn't entirely her fault. Dooku should have told her! He should have tried to explain himself beforehand. This all could have been avoided had she known what he had been planning!

"Plagueis told me what had happened when I arrived," Qui-Gon said, rousing Shmi from her thoughts. "I was angry at first, as you might imagine. I blamed him for letting you get away."

"Did he know about the plan?" Shmi asked. "Did he know what Dooku planned to do?"

Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment, his jaw tight as he met her intense eyes. "He did," he admitted.

Furious, Shmi jolted upright out of her chair. "This is all his fault then!" she exclaimed, slamming her fist down on the table. "If he had told me –"

"You have no one to blame but yourself," Qui-Gon interrupted in a booming voice, his hands grasping the armrests of his chair with vigor as he stared her down. "It can never be your fault. You always have to blame someone else for your problems. First it was the Jedi, then it was Sidious, and now it is Plagueis. When will you come to the realization that you are the one responsible for this? You are solely responsible for Dooku's death and you are solely responsible for the fragmentation of our family."

Shmi was too stunned to respond, indignation causing her eyes to bulge outward as she stared back at Qui-Gon incredulously. How dare he say that this was all her fault! It wasn't her fault that Sidious had raped her! It wasn't her fault that Plagueis hadn't trusted her enough to tell her the truth!

"You have a choice before you now, Shmi," Qui-Gon said upon taking a deep breath. Relaxing his vicious grip on the armrests, he flexed his fingers and rested his back against his chair. "You can either continue to live in the past, blame all of your problems on your enemies, and watch this family crumble, or you can choose to move on and put it all behind you."

Shmi's incredulity didn't fade as she seethed down at Qui-Gon, her eyes flashing furiously at his insolence. "How dare you," she said in a steely, barely-audible voice. "How dare you belittle my suffering."

Disheartened, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not doing that, Shmi," he said.

"I am not to blame!" she bellowed, the abrupt shift of her voice from soft to stentorian shocking Obi-Wan so much so that he nearly fell out of his chair. "Sidious ruined our lives, not me!"

"But now he's dead," Qui-Gon pointed out, his tone even as he refused to be intimidated by her. "So who will be to blame now?"

"No one!" she roared. "Everything has been set right!"

"Nothing has been set right!" Qui-Gon countered, he too raising his voice as he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Shmi, you're becoming the very thing you sought to destroy! You have highjacked Sidious' plan and have refitted it for your own purposes!"

"That's a lie," she averred viciously, a droplet of spit flying from her mouth and landing on the table.

"Is it?" Qui-Gon asked. "Because I fail to see how what you are doing is any different than what Sidious wanted to do." Breathing heavily, Shmi was too incensed to offer a rebuttal. "You're founding an empire, Shmi!" Qui-Gon said, capitalizing on her silence. "How can you justify that?"

"I'm doing what has to be done to ensure peace," she intoned, but Qui-Gon wasn't having it, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Plagueis warned me that it would come to this," he said. "He told me that you were on a path to destruction and that the darkness you claim to control would consume you in time. He died fearing that he had created another Sidious. Are you really going to prove him right?"

Shmi had no come back to this having been utterly frozen by Qui-Gon's acute and biting arguments. She simply stared back at him, feeling increasingly foolish with each passing moment of silence.

"Please, Mom," Anakin said suddenly. Surprised, Shmi blinked a few times as she turned her attention to her son. "Listen to him," he beseeched her. "Stop this madness."

Shmi's lower lip trembled precariously as she looked between Qui-Gon and Anakin. She felt paralyzed by indecision and decidedly unauthoritative. Despite the grandiloquent act that was Elegius, she had never truly shed herself of her innate lack of confidence. At her core, she remained Shmi Skywalker, not Darth Elegius. Shmi Skywalker was cautious, indecisive, and in need of someone else to tell her what to do.

She hated that woman.

She hated being told what to do.

She hated that Anakin and Qui-Gon were able to manipulate her like this.

She was the Chosen One! She made the decisions! People were supposed to bow to her authority, not the other way around.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked in a high voice, the façade of Elegius having fully disappeared by now. "Why are you forcing me to choose?"

"Because we love you, Shmi," Qui-Gon said hesitation, his piercing blue eyes entreating her to acquiesce. "We want to save you from yourself."

She couldn't take it anymore. Shutting her eyes tight, Shmi stumbled away from the table, tripping on the chair behind her as she did so. Furious at herself for being so clumsy, she sent the chair flying across the room with a violent swipe of her hand. The plastic chair crashed into the opposite wall and smashed to pieces.

Qui-Gon alone seemed unfazed by this outburst as he watched her with sad eyes. "Shmi –" he tried to say, but she wouldn't listen to him. She couldn't listen to him.

"I… I need to think," she muttered as she looked away from Qui-Gon toward the floor, her cheeks tinged red with embarrassment. She hesitated for a moment longer before making to march out of the room.

"Mom –"

"Let her go, Anakin," Qui-Gon instructed Anakin gently. "Let her go."

* * *

Shmi was standing in front of curved window with her hands behind her back. Her eyes stared off sightlessly at the craggy asteroid field before her. For all intents and purposes, however, she wasn't even there at all. Like all other aspects of the Force, she had mastered the art of meditation so much so that she no longer had to close her eyes to ingratiate herself with the Force like the Jedi used to do.

She had meditated like this often during her ten years of solitude with Plagueis. Back then, she had sought out Anakin and Qui-Gon through the Force, probing them gently to see how they were doing. Now, however, she was attempting to find another person.

"Father," she said aloud, her sightless eyes glistening with tears of conflict. "Tell me what to do."

Yet Plagueis didn't respond. Her father was gone for good. Sidious had killed him three years ago.

But he had spoken to her! After she had killed Sidious, Plagueis had told her what she had to do. He had told her to found a new order to ensure that the evil of the Sith could never return.

Why hadn't he been more specific? Why couldn't he help her now when she desperately needed him?

"Father," she supplicated the Force once more. "Help me."

Silence.

Shmi was alone.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Startled, Shmi broke out of her meditative state and spun around. Standing in the doorway of the circular room was Qui-Gon. His wheelchair was directly behind him, implying he had just stood up.

"Go away, Qui-Gon," she said tersely. "I want to be alone."

"I think both of us have been alone for far too long," Qui-Gon countered as he walked toward her.

Conceding the point, Shmi sighed as she turned back around toward the window. Qui-Gon came to a stop by her side and he followed her suit, staring off blindly at the expanse of space before them. After nearly a minute of comfortable silence, she spoke.

"How can you still love me?" she asked in a strained voice. "After everything I've done?"

Qui-Gon didn't answer her for a long while, his silence serving to heighten Shmi's anguish. "I don't think I could ever not love you," he said finally.

"That's not an answer," she said.

"Perhaps not, but it is the truth," Qui-Gon retorted, a subtle smile emerging on his lips as she saw him looking at her out of the corner of her eye.

With another sigh, Shmi lowered her head and redirected her gaze down toward her boots. "I don't know what I'm doing," she confessed, speaking so softly that it was barely audible to her own ears. "I don't know what the point of it all was."

"Why does it need to have a point?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Because I'm the Chosen One," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. "I thought…"

"That your life would have purpose?" Qui-Gon provided. Shmi nodded, grateful for Qui-Gon's innate ability to understand how she was feeling. He had always been able to do that. "What makes you think you haven't had a purpose?" he asked. "You protected our son. You defeated Sidious. What more do you have to achieve?"

"I didn't fulfill the prophecy!" Shmi exclaimed. "I didn't bring balance to the Force."

"Who's to say that you didn't?" Qui-Gon asked. Bemused, Shmi arched an eyebrow at him. "Both the Sith and the Jedi are gone," he explained. "Their monopoly on the Force is no longer."

"So that's it? My legacy is one of destruction?" Shmi asked.

"What would you rather it be?"

"Plagueis told me that –"

"No," Qui-Gon interrupted, holding a hand to stop her. "What do _you _want your legacy to be?"

Shmi faltered at this, her mouth still hanging open as she considered this question. What did she want? Shmi was used to being a single-minded person with one well-defined motivation to drive her. Back when she had been a Jedi, her singular ambition was to become a Master. After that dream had been derailed by Sidious, Shmi had refocused her attention toward protecting her son. Fundamentally, that remained her focus to the present day, although she had become more offensive since her time on Tatooine – intending to kill Sidious rather than merely hide from him to keep Anakin safe.

But now Sidious was gone and Anakin was safe. Her purpose was gone. Perhaps that was why she had chosen to ascribe Plagueis' aspirations to herself. She personally didn't care about the Republic or founding a new order on which the galaxy could prosper. Plagueis had wanted her to care about those things, but that hadn't been why she had pledged herself to him. She had devoted herself to Plagueis' teachings to protect Anakin, plain and simple.

"I don't know what I want anymore," she said finally, looking down in shame at this pathetic admission. Despite this, she couldn't deny that it felt good to reveal this to someone. For the past three years, she had been pretending to be some sort of master schemer who had an ultimate plan to counter and defeat Sidious. She had needed to maintain this façade so as to prevent Maul or Anakin from questioning her. The truth of the matter, however, was that she had no idea what she was doing or what she intended to do. She had been flying by the seat of her pants for three whole years.

That was why she had delayed her confrontation with Sidious for as long as she did. It wasn't because she was afraid to face him. She had long since known that she was more powerful than Sidious and that he didn't stand a chance in an even duel between them. The true reason was because she hadn't known what to do afterward. What would she do with herself once Sidious was finally gone?

"I know what you _don't_ want," Qui-Gon said. Curious, Shmi looked back up to meet Qui-Gon's solicitous gaze. "You don't want an empire," he said confidently. "I know you Shmi. You have never wanted that."

Shmi swallowed hard and found herself nodding. "You're right," she admitted. "But I need a purpose. I need a cause to put my powers behind."

"You have a cause!" Qui-Gon protested, abruptly reaching out and grabbing her hand. Shmi flinched, but she stopped herself from recoiling.

"Do I?" she asked skeptically, her jaw clenched and her body stiff at Qui-Gon's gesture.

Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Qui-Gon let go of her and retracted his hand. "You have a family now, Shmi," he said. "Why can't that be enough for you?"

Shmi bit her tongue and placed her hands behind her back, her flesh still tingling from when Qui-Gon had touched her. He didn't understand. She wasn't an ordinary person like him. It would be a waste of her powers to not use them for the greater good.

"You don't have to do this, Shmi," Qui-Gon said upon taking a deep breath. "I know you think you have to, but you don't."

"What do you suggest I do instead?" she asked bitingly. "Abandon my responsibilities? Let the Sith return and ruin the galaxy all over again?"

"Is that what you think you're doing? Ensuring peace?"

"Yes!" she said emphatically. "Sidious will return if I don't!"

"On the contrary, he will return if you do," Qui-Gon retorted. Caught off guard by this comment, Shmi wasn't sure how to respond. What was he talking about? "Sidious can't literally return, Shmi. He's dead. You killed him. But his spirit will be revived if you continue down this path."

Qui-Gon stopped when Shmi shook her head vigorously, refusing to listen to this particular argument. At the mere insinuation that she and Sidious were alike, Shmi would shut down and disregard such an apocryphal and unjust recrimination. She had killed Sidious! She had been the one to thwart his plans! They were not alike.

"If you plan to do this, at the very least don't do it alone," Qui-Gon said, switching tactics. "You can't do this alone, Shmi. You have no idea what you're doing."

Shmi wanted to rebut this accusation, but she knew she couldn't. It was the truth, of course. She had no idea what she was doing. "What do you propose, Qui-Gon?" she asked instead. "Have me return power to the Senate and hope for the best? It was the Senate which allowed Sidious to gain power in the first place!"

"The Senate is not to blame, Shmi," Qui-Gon said gently. "And besides, you can't rule without them. You need their support."

"I have the clones," she growled. "I don't need the help of some slimy administrators."

Qui-Gon pursed his lips and looked away, disappointment etched across his heavily lined face. "Do you even hear yourself right now?" he asked. "You plan on being a dictator!"

"If that is what is needed, I will do it," Shmi said stiffly. "The galaxy needs me."

"No, it doesn't!" Qui-Gon exclaimed exasperatedly. "The galaxy doesn't need you, your family does! This isn't your responsibility, Shmi!" When Shmi didn't respond, Qui-Gon recomposed himself and exhaled slowly out his nose. "You did your part, Shmi. You destroyed the Sith and brought balance to the Force. Now it's time to preserve that balance and step aside. All the work you have done will be for naught if you follow through with this insane plan."

Qui-Gon didn't wait for a response as he turned around and hobbled away toward the exit. Shmi watched his reflection retreat in the window, her impassive expression belying her brewing internal conflict.

* * *

"Are you sure about this? I don't feel comfortable –"

"Obi-Wan, shut up," Anakin interrupted, a smirk on his lips as he shook his head. Obi-Wan glanced up at him nervously before returning his absolute attention to baby Luke whom he was holding stiffly.

"You're doing fine, Obi-Wan," Padmé said encouragingly from the bed. She had been able to get about an hour of rest before Leia had started crying again. Despite the heavy bags under her eyes, Padmé didn't complain, having gotten out of bed to scoop Leia out of her cradle. Anakin and Obi-Wan had arrived a few moments later.

"What if I drop him?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin rolled his eyes. "You're not going to drop him," he dismissed. "Although if you do, I'll never speak to you again," he added impishly.

"Anakin!" Padmé reprimanded.

"Just kidding," he amended hastily, giving his wife a rueful look.

Padmé shook her head as she looked back down at Leia who had ceased crying. Padmé alone seemed to be able to sooth the baby girl, and Anakin couldn't deny that he was a bit jealous. Leia was his daughter as well! Why didn't she seem to respond as well to him as she did to Padmé?

Just then, the door to the room opened, startling Anakin who hadn't sensed anyone approaching. Spinning around, he saw his father wheeling himself toward them. It was no wonder Qui-Gon had been able to sneak up on him – his Force signature had atrophied so significantly that it was nearly indistinguishable in the Force, even to Anakin who was nearly as attuned to it as Shmi was.

"Did you talk to her?" Anakin asked urgently. Qui-Gon didn't look up at him, a frown imprinted on his lips as he parked himself by Padmé's bedside. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, disconcerted by Qui-Gon's silence at this question.

"I did," he said finally with a heavy sigh.

"And?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "She won't listen to me."

Anakin felt his stomach drop, utterly demoralized by these words. He had been so sure that Qui-Gon would succeed. His mother loved him, after all. Surely she would see logic if Qui-Gon had been the one to talk to her.

Evidently he had been wrong.

"What are we going to do?" Obi-Wan asked.

"What are you talking about?" Padmé asked, her forehead creased with concern. "What is this about Shmi?"

"She won't relinquish control over the Republic," Qui-Gon said heavily.

"Why is she doing this?" a wide-eyed Padmé asked.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said, wearily rubbing his forehead with the palms of his hands. "And I don't think she knows why she's doing it either," he added morosely. "She's just too stubborn to stop."

Dejected, Anakin shook his head and looked away. None of it made any sense to Anakin any more. He had joined his mother so that they could defeat Sidious, not take over the galaxy. When had her ambitions changed? Or had she always been steadfast on overthrowing the Republic and he had simply been too naïve to see it? Was it possible that she had been manipulating him from the start?

"Hey, Anakin? Could I have a word?"

"Hmm?" Anakin mumbled, his mind still too wrapped around his internal musings to register this solicitation.

"A word. Now."

Anakin looked up to see Obi-Wan looking at him with a severe expression.

"Oh," Anakin said quickly, blinking a few times as he reoriented himself. "Yeah, sure."

"I'll take Luke," Qui-Gon suggested, his eyes narrowed somewhat as he scrutinized Obi-Wan.

"Thanks," Obi-Wan said, leaning down to deposit Luke into his grandfather's arms. "Come on," he whispered to Anakin once he had stood back upright. Wrapping his hand around Anakin's shoulder, Obi-Wan all but dragged him out of the room and into the hallway.

"Obi-Wan –" Anakin protested when the door closed behind them, but Obi-Wan cut him off.

"This has gone too far," he said, pointing a finger at his chest. "You have to stop this, Anakin."

"Me?" Anakin said incredulously. "How?"

Obi-Wan glanced behind Anakin toward the closed door for a moment. "Follow me," he whispered. Bemused, Anakin followed his friend and master down the hallway and out of sight of the operating room.

"What are you on about, Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked in a hushed voice once they had come to a stop around the corner.

"You need to listen to me, Anakin," Obi-Wan said urgently, spinning around and facing him directly. "Your mother has lost it. We need to stop her while we still have the chance."

Anakin gulped audibly and glanced around, irrationally fearing that Shmi could be overhearing them. "We can't stop her," he said. "We don't stand a chance."

"But you do," Obi-Wan said, speaking so softly that Anakin had to lean in to hear him clearly. "She trusts you."

Anakin furrowed his brow and leaned back away from Obi-Wan, suddenly catching his drift. "I will not do that, Obi-Wan," he said stiffly.

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes," Anakin said resolutely. "I will not kill my own mother."

Obi-Wan sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Then all will be lost," he presaged. "Surely you must know this." Anakin looked away and remained silent, feeling supremely uncomfortable with the situation at hand. He knew Obi-Wan was right to an extent; if Qui-Gon couldn't get her to stand down, then his mother was truly gone, consumed by Elegius. Even so, that didn't mean Anakin was willing to confront her. Not only did he know he wasn't strong enough to defeat her, he could never turn against his mother like that. He couldn't try and kill her like Obi-Wan wanted him to do.

He loved her.

How could he not? She was his mother! No matter how insane or sadistic she had become, he still saw Shmi Skywalker within the monster that was Elegius. To Anakin, she was still the kind and loving woman from Tatooine who had sacrificed so much for him.

That was what he told himself, at least. That's how he rationalized everything he had done at her behest. Yet deep down, he knew it wasn't really true. Elegius needed to be stopped, on this he agreed with Obi-Wan completely. He just wasn't willing to sacrifice what small piece of his mother remained. He wouldn't kill Elegius even if she were ninety-nine parts evil and only one part good. That one part – the part that was his mother – was too important for him.

"There has to be a way to convince her to relinquish power," Anakin said optimistically.

"Don't deceive yourself, Anakin," Obi-Wan dismissed. "If Qui-Gon couldn't do it, no one can."

Anakin nodded absently, unable to refute this point yet not willing to concede either. There had to be another way, and even if there wasn't, Anakin was going to try. He owed it to his mother to try.

"Anakin, I know how difficult this is for you," Obi-Wan said in a more-compassionate voice. "But you need to face the facts. Elegius can no longer be reasoned with. She has to go for the sake of the galaxy. For the sake of your children! Anakin, I implore you to listen to me and do what has to be done."

Feeling overwhelmed, Anakin chewed on his lower lip and looked down at his boots. "I… I can't do it, Obi-Wan," he said, his voice garbled with conflict and emotion. "I can't kill my own mother."

Obi-Wan reached out and placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder, a gesture he no doubt copied from Qui-Gon. "You don't have to," he said softly. "Because she's already dead. Your mother has been dead for a long, long time."

At this, Anakin broke down and began to sob. Great tears flooded down his cheeks as his whole torso heaved. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan placed his other hand on the back of Anakin's head and pulled him in to his chest. Anakin didn't protest, allowing himself to be enfolded in his brother's embrace.

It wasn't fair. His family had been through so much, only to be thwarted at the end. They were so close to being united! Why couldn't his mother see that? Why did she have to ruin everything by pursuing power?

Why had Shmi Skywalker chosen to die? Why had he been robbed of his mother?

"You have to do this, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered into his ear after Anakin had ceased crying.

Anakin nodded, his forehead still rested against Obi-Wan's collarbone. "I know," he said in a muffled voice. "I know."

* * *

_You have a family now, Shmi. Why can't that be enough for you?_

_ **The fate of the galaxy hangs on a thread. It rests on your shoulders. You must choose what its fate shall be.** _

_We intend to save you. And if you don't let us, you will never see me nor Qui-Gon again._

_ **You must restore order to the galaxy. Restore the balance which you were meant to restore. Only then will Sidious' demise be truly permanent.** _

_The galaxy doesn't need you, your family does! This isn't your responsibility, Shmi!_

_ **The Jedi and the Sith have been destroyed. It is time for a new order to rise.** _

_Because we love you, Shmi. We want to save you from yourself._

_ **Remember my teachings, child. Bring balance to the Force by bringing harmony to both the light and the dark. Do not be led astray by either path. Stay true and stay strong.** _

She was being torn apart.

How could she reconcile the two facets of her identity now that they had become diametrically opposed to one another?

She was the Chosen One!

Yet she was also a mother.

She had to bring balance to the Force!

But at the cost of her family?

What cruel fate was this? Why was she being forced to choose between fulfilling the prophecy and happiness? Why couldn't she be the Chosen One and a matriarch at the same time?

Why did it have to be her? Why had she been chosen?

She hated this burden. The burden of the Chosen One. The sacrifice. The solitude. The power.

She hated it all.

_**This is the burden of the Chosen One**_, Plagueis had told her all those years ago. _**You must make this sacrifice for the sake of the galaxy**_**.**

Why?

Why did she have to make this sacrifice?

Why did she have to suffer in order to bring balance?

Why did it have to be her?

She wanted nothing more than to concede to Qui-Gon's demands and abdicate power. He was entirely right; she had no idea what she was doing. She wanted to leave the galaxy to its fate and retire her responsibilities. She wanted to be with her family for the first time. She wanted to be happy for the first time in twenty-three years.

Yet she couldn't. She wouldn't let her father down like that. She had a responsibility to fulfill the Prophecy and to bring order to the galaxy. Once again, Plagueis' words rang in her head.

_ **You are being selfish! The fate of the galaxy is dependent on you! Are you really going to squander your responsibilities for the sake of this man?** _

She couldn't be selfish. She couldn't let her feelings for Qui-Gon derail her from her greater purpose. She would do what had to be done...

The sound of a lightsaber being activated pierced the previously placid air and Shmi looked up sharply. In the window in front of her, she saw the distorted reflections of a blue and green blade.

"We need to talk."

Nonplussed, Shmi merely stared at the reflection of the green blade. Her shock quickly transformed into anger, however. How dare he…

"This needs to end, Mom."

Slowly, Shmi turned around. Standing at the base of the brief flight of stairs was Anakin and Obi-Wan, each holding an active lightsaber. Anakin was looking up at her with a determined expression, yet she could sense that this visage was belying his internal ambivalence. He didn't want to do this, yet evidently he felt he had no choice.

Her own son had turned against her.

"Sheath your blade," she demanded authoritatively, speaking solely to Anakin. Obi-Wan's treachery neither interested nor threatened her. All that mattered was her son.

"Not until you promise to abdicate power," Anakin countered, clutching his lightsaber tightly in his right hand.

Shmi shook her head and snarled. "I will do no such thing," she said.

Anakin's shoulders sagged in disappointment, yet he didn't look particularly surprised by her response. "Then you give me no choice," he said, raising his blade above his shoulder. "I will do what I must."

Shmi clenched her jaw and began to tremble with furious indignation. She couldn't believe this was happening. Of all the people to betray her, Anakin was the last she would have suspected.

"Anakin, don't do this," she exhorted him. "You need to stop."

"You're the one who needs to stop, Mom," Anakin retorted. "What you plan to do is insane!"

"You don't understand!" she roared. "None of you do! I have to do this! I have to fulfill my destiny!"

Anakin shook his head and bent his knees, assuming an offensive posture. "I can't let you do that," he said defiantly.

Fury coursed through her at her son's insolence. Lowering her mechanical hand, Shmi summoned the darksaber from her belt and activated it in one swift motion, the black blade crackling to life at her flank.

"It's treason then," she snarled.

How had it come to this?


	28. A New Order

_Polis Massa_

Having rested the twins back in their respective cradles, Qui-Gon labored back to his chair by Padmé's bedside and sat down with a groan. His legs were killing him. He had walked more today than he had in the past three months combined.

"So what now?" Padmé asked him, sitting upright in her bed with her knees tucked into her chest. Qui-Gon looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. "Will you come with us?" she clarified.

"Where to?" he asked halfheartedly.

"I was thinking Anakin and I could go to Naboo," Padmé told him, the ghost of a smile emerging on the corner of her chapped lips. "Now that the Republic has fallen and the Order is gone, neither of us have any reason to stay on Coruscant. Besides, the city isn't a good place to raise the children anyway."

Qui-Gon gave her a strange look and tilted his head. "You seem awfully calm about all this," he noted. "I would have thought you would be furious to hear what Shmi has done."

Padmé nodded sullenly and looked down at her knees. "I am," she admitted. "But I think Shmi will make the right choice in time."

"You do, do you?" Qui-Gon asked skeptically.

"I spoke to her, Qui-Gon," she said. "There's still good in her, I can feel it."

"So can I, but that doesn't mean she will make the right choice," Qui-Gon countered.

"I know," Padmé conceded with a heavy sigh. "But I have hope."

Qui-Gon stopped himself from snorting derisively and looked away quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Hope? That was a fool's folly. Qui-Gon had been through enough hardship and heartbreak in his life to know better than to rely on hope.

"Do you love him?" Qui-Gon asked suddenly, his tone stern but sincere.

"Pardon?" Padmé asked, bemused.

"Anakin? Do you love him?"

Padmé blinked a few times, clearly nonplussed by this question. "Of course," she said eventually. "I thought that would be obvious."

"Nothing is obvious. Not anymore, at least," Qui-Gon said darkly. "Forgive me, but I had to make sure."

Padmé stared at him silently for a few moments before speaking. "You don't like me, do you?" she asked.

Qui-Gon looked up sharply. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

"You never have," Padmé said. "Back when I was a queen, you were downright hostile to me. And now you question my fidelity to your son despite the fact that I just gave birth to his children." Qui-Gon blinked a few times in surprise, caught off guard by this abrupt and trenchant accusation. "You never wanted him to fall in love, did you? You didn't want him repeating your mistakes."

"Can you blame me?" Qui-Gon asked.

"No," Padmé said. "But there's nothing you can do about that now. Anakin and I love each other. I would appreciate it if you supported us now."

Qui-Gon hesitated as he considered this request. She was right; he didn't like her. He never had. He thought she was stuck-up and supercilious, her ego inflated on account of being elected queen at such a young age. Perhaps he was wrong, however. It was clear that Anakin loved her. That should be good enough for Qui-Gon, after all.

Qui-Gon had opened his mouth to say something when he abruptly froze, his eyes widening with fear. He sensed something. Something… cataclysmic.

"Qui-Gon?" Padmé asked. "What's wrong?"

"Anakin is in danger," Qui-Gon told her, his face blanching as a wave of terror washed over him. "Terrible danger."

* * *

"Well, what is it boys?" Shmi taunted as she loomed over Obi-Wan and Anakin who were a few feet below her. "Are you going to attack me or not?"

Anakin and Obi-Wan glanced at each other, clearly ambivalent about the prospect. She couldn't blame them; they were way out of their league. They were both admirable warriors, sure, but their fighting skills didn't compare to hers. She had vanquished Darth Sidious himself! There was nobody in the galaxy who presented a genuine threat to her.

Yet in spite of this, Shmi couldn't help but feel somewhat apprehensive as well. She had only managed to kill Sidious because of the strength of her anger and the magnitude of her love for her son. In this situation, she wasn't fueled by either of those feelings. She was angry, but not in the same way as against Sidious. She felt betrayed, hurt, and alone. None of these emotions were conducive to battle.

"We'll take her together," Obi-Wan said to Anakin who nodded. Shmi sneered at them when they returned their gaze to her.

"You will try," she said, brandishing her Darksaber in front of her and assuming a defensive posture.

The two Jedi hesitated for a moment longer before leaping up the stairs toward her. Obi-Wan swung down at her toward her neck whereas Anakin aimed low toward her legs. Shmi deflected Obi-Wan's blade and spun away from Anakin's assault with ease.

As she fought off their offensive, however, Shmi realized another disadvantage. For the past ten years, she had fought exclusively with two blades. Now that her blue lightsaber was gone, however, she only had the Darksaber to wield. That combined with the fact that she was not yet fully comfortable with her mechanical hand rendered her capabilities all the more depleted.

Yet she was not lost. Even if her swordsmanship may be lacking, her Force abilities were not. She still had a massive advantage over her opponents in that regard. Besides, now that she only had the one blade, she could use her off hand to greater effect.

Shmi waited for an opening before deploying her counterattack. Having backed up toward the curved window behind her, Shmi ducked under Obi-Wan's blade and swiped upward at Anakin. Caught off guard by the force of this strike, Anakin was unable to parry the attack cleanly and Shmi's blade nicked him in the shoulder. As he stumbled backward in surprise, Shmi thrust her left hand out and sent Anakin flying across the room where he collided into the back wall with a dull thud.

Obi-Wan quickly regained the initiative as he swung violently at her head. Shmi was better able to counter his offensive, however, now that Anakin wasn't attacking her as well. After parrying a few more of Obi-Wan's strikes, Shmi knocked his lightsaber away and kicked him in the gut. Obi-Wan managed to avoid doubling over, as that would have rendered him vulnerable. Instead he backed up quickly, wincing as he did so.

"You lied to us, Elegius," Obi-Wan wheezed as he continued retreating slowly. "You said you wouldn't harm the Jedi."

"You were a fool to believe me," she said snidely.

"Oh no, I never believed you," Obi-Wan retorted. "I knew all along what you were. Anakin was the one who deceived himself. But he will be a fool no longer. He sees you for who you really are now: a monster."

Incensed, Shmi didn't bother to offer a rebuttal, electing instead to leap at Obi-Wan with her blade held high. The Darksaber plunged down at Obi-Wan who managed to repel the blow. Shmi refused to let him regain control over the duel, however, unleashing a flurry of strikes and counterstrikes upon her outclassed foe.

To her left, she could sense Anakin beginning to stir. She couldn't let him rejoin the fray. She had to finish off Obi-Wan first. Driven my this motivation, Shmi redoubled her efforts and soon had Obi-Wan retreating to the window.

"You can't win, Elegius," Obi-Wan claimed as his heels bumped into the glass.

"Oh no?" Shmi asked balefully, raising her lightsaber up over her shoulder.

"You may win this battle, but you won't win the war," Obi-Wan said. "If your son won't defeat you, your grandchildren will."

Red hot rage billowed within her at this threat. How dare he pit her grandchildren against her! They were literally hours old and already he was planning to turn them against her! He truly was a Jedi through and through; a manipulative bastard to the core.

With a roar, Shmi thrust her lightsaber at Obi-Wan like a lance, directing the point of her blade at Obi-Wan's chest. Obi-Wan managed to slap the blade away, but his position was compromised since he had no more room to back up into. Capitalizing on his lack of balance, Shmi swiped across her body and forced Obi-Wan's blue blade aside. Looping back around, Shmi reared back and thrust forward in one swift motion.

Unable to defend himself, Obi-Wan let out a shriek of pain when the Darksaber ripped through his left shoulder. The tip of the infinitesimally sharp blade protruded out the back and pierced the window behind Obi-Wan, a web of cracks emanating from the point of contact. Afraid that the window would break and expose them to the vacuum of space, Shmi deactivated her blade hastily and pulled back the hilt.

Dropping his lightsaber, Obi-Wan fell to his knees before her and clutched his grievously wounded shoulder. Wasting no time, Shmi raised the Darksaber over her head and reactivated the blade, ready to deliver the final blow.

* * *

"Qui-Gon wait!"

Qui-Gon shook his head and pointed his finger at Padmé as he made his way to the door. "Stay here. It's too dangerous."

"I'm coming with you!" Padmé demanded, pushing herself upright and laboriously swinging her legs off the bed.

"No, Padmé –"

She wasn't listening to him, however. Getting to her feet, she quickly fell back down onto Qui-Gon's wheelchair which he had just vacated.

"I am going with you," she said again, her face pale yet her tone steely. "This isn't a negotiation."

Qui-Gon faltered, impressed yet also irritated by her insistence. This was not something she should be involved with. It was too dangerous.

"Look, Padmé. I think –"

"I am a part of this family," Padmé interrupted tartly. "Just because you don't like it, doesn't make it any less true. Now tell me, where is my husband and why is he in danger?"

Husband? Wait, she and Anakin were married? How come neither wore a ring? How come –

"Qui-Gon," Padmé said sternly, cutting his thoughts short. "Tell me."

Qui-Gon hesitated a moment longer before folding. "Fine," he said with a shake of his head. "Follow me."

Without looking behind him to ensure that Padmé was following him, Qui-Gon marched out of the room and into the hallway. His legs felt hollow and wobbly, but he persevered down the hallway regardless, driven forward by sheer fear and paternal protectiveness. He couldn't lose Anakin after all this. It wouldn't be fair…

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Qui-Gon looked down to see that Padmé had caught up with him, wheeling herself forward with her arms.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon admitted as they burst out of the medical ward. "All I know is Anakin is in danger."

"From Shmi?" Padmé asked.

"In all likelihood," Qui-Gon said grimly.

Padmé gulped nervously and fell silent. The sound of his footsteps and the creak of the wheelchair echoed as they turned down another hallway. They were making their way back to the observation room where he and Shmi had just spoken a few minutes prior. Had Anakin decided to confront his mother there?

Qui-Gon's suspicions were all but confirmed when he heard a roar of fury accompanied soon thereafter by a shriek of pain.

"Anakin!" Padmé yelled, jumping out of her wheelchair in an instant.

"Padmé wait!"

She didn't listen to him, however, taking off running down the hallway toward the observation. Cursing under his breath, Qui-Gon ignored the protestations of his joints and took off after her in the direction of the clarion cry.

* * *

Shmi had just been about to swing down at Obi-Wan's neck when her left shoulder erupted in pain. Screaming, she dropped the Darksaber behind her head. Looking at her shoulder, her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw a tendril of smoke wafting from a smoldering wound. She had been shot? How was that possible?

Acting on instinct, Shmi spun around and thrust her mechanical hand outward just as the sound of a second blaster shot pierced the air. The red bolt froze mere inches from her outstretched fingers, the plasma of the bolt crackling right in front of her nose.

Looking up from the suspended bolt, Shmi's eyes widened as she saw who was standing in the doorway, a blaster held in both hands.

"Padmé?"

Unfazed by how easily Shmi had been able to freeze her second bolt, Padmé opened fire a third time. Shocked by her audacity, Shmi only barely managed to leap out of the way and fell to the ground. Both bolts – the second one having been released from Shmi's grasp when she jumped away – went soaring into the glass window behind her. Much to Shmi's relief, the material seemed to be impermeable to blaster fire, otherwise they all would have been dead had the window been broken.

Her ephemeral sense of relief faded into unmitigated rage, however, when she looked back up to see Padmé still aiming her blaster at her. On her back, Shmi twitched her neck and sent Padmé's blaster soaring out of her grasp. Padmé's head swiveled to the left after the blaster, and Shmi capitalized on this moment to get back to her feet.

Shmi attempted to raise her left hand, but stopped quickly when she remembered the wound Padmé had inflicted upon her shoulder. Growling, she raised her right hand instead toward her defenseless opponent.

Padmé's eyes bulged outward as she was lifted into the air by her throat. "Shmi, please," she managed to say as she clawed at her throat, desperately attempting to escape her inexorable grip. Shmi pinched her mechanical fingers closer together, strengthening her stranglehold over Padmé's neck…

A massive blow to Shmi's left temple knocked her off her feet. Sprawled out on the ground, Shmi looked up to see Anakin looming over her, a furious expression on his face. In his right hand, he grasped his father's lightsaber yet the blade was not activated. It seemed he had walloped her head with the hilt.

"This ends now," he said, his voice shaking with outrage.

Shmi blinked a few times, feeling overwhelmingly dizzy and disoriented. The blow to her head combined with the pain in her shoulder had rendered her groggy and discombobulated.

She was not defeated yet, however.

"I won't kill you, Mom," Anakin said, his figure somewhat distorted as her vision was blurred by tears of pain. "I won't do it."

"Weakling," she spat viciously.

"Huh?" Anakin said, caught off guard by her vitriol.

With lightning quickness, Shmi summoned her discarded Darksaber to her hand and propelled herself upward with the Force. Thoroughly unprepared to repel this blitz, Anakin fell backward when she kicked him square in the chest and sent him tumbling down the stairs. Activating her Darksaber, Shmi jumped toward Anakin's prone body and landed gracefully by his feet. She reared her Darksaber back in her right hand, ready to strike…

"Shmi, no!"

Shmi looked up sharply to see Qui-Gon in the doorway. He was on his knees by Padmé's unconscious form, a finger over her pulse.

"Mom," Anakin said below her in a dazed voice. "Don't –"

Shmi closed her eyes as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. A horrific cackle reverberated in her skull, casting a terrible chill over her body.

_I don't have to fight you, Shmi Skywalker._ _In time you will fight for me._

Sidious' decrepit face was alight with mirth. He was laughing at her, delirious that his plans were coming to fruition in spite of his own demise.

_I see the glint in your eyes. You and Sidious are more alike than you are different._

Maul was snarling at her, disgust etched across his tattooed face. She had proven him right, in the end. She and Sidious were no different. In fact, she was far worse. She had been willing to kill her own son…

"_Mom, why am I a slave?_"

Shmi opened her eyes and inhaled sharply, stunned by the sight before her.

"_Mom?_"

This was her son as she remembered him. Her baby boy. His sandy hair was long and ruffled while his cheeks were full and cherubic. He was so beautiful.

"_Ani, you're so much more than a slave_," she had said to him, her voice soft and sweet, eyes gentle and solicitous, touch warm and comforting. That woman was Anakin's mother. Not her. She didn't know who she was anymore.

"_I know, but why do I have a chip when others don't?_"

She had smiled weakly, tears welling up in her eyes at this innocent yet tragic question. "_Ani, I want you to listen to me,_" she had said, kneeling down so that she was at eye level with her son. "_Just because you are different doesn't make you any less special_."

"_I know, but –_"

"_You're my son, Anakin,_" she had interrupted, her characteristic sternness laced with the sincere love of a mother. "_You are the most important person in the entire galaxy to me. You mean more to me than the suns and all the stars in the sky. Do you know that?_"

Anakin had frowned, clearly displeased by the lack of a clear answer. He didn't raise an objection, however. He had been too obedient to do such a thing. Back when she had deserved his trust and affection. "_I know,_" he had said.

Shmi had smiled, standing back upright and reaching down to tousle his hair. "_I love you, Ani._"

"_I love you too, Mom._"

"Shmi! Stop!"

_Remember my teachings, my child._

_Love is the most powerful emotion we mortals can experience. You must learn how to weaponize your love for Anakin._

_Return home, and you may find the answers you seek._

Plagueis had told her everything she needed to know, and it had all revolved around Anakin. It always had been about Anakin.

She had weaponized her love for Anakin just like Plagueis had taught her to do. She had killed Sidious to protect him. She had derived the necessary strength from her love for her son, and because of that she had become invincible.

Yet now she needed to stop. She needed to remember what her purpose was. She needed to remember that love was not just a weapon.

She needed to return home.

* * *

"This ends now."

"I won't kill you, Mom."

"I won't do it."

_Please surrender. Please stop now. Please come back…_

"Weakling."

"Huh?"

Anakin had blinked, and before he knew it, his mother had leapt back to her feet and summoned her weapon back to her hand. She had kicked him square in the chest and sent him tumbling down the stairs where he landed hard on his back.

Winded, he had looked up to see the terrifying figure of Elegius tearing toward him, her blade held high over her right shoulder.

"Mom, don't –"

She didn't listen to him. She couldn't listen to him. She was gone. Shmi Skywalker was gone for good…

"Shmi, no!"

She froze, the blade quivering with anticipation above her head. Her eyes bored into his own, the yellow of the left burning into his retinas.

"Shmi! Stop!"

The blade plunged down.

Anakin closed his eyes and held his hands up in a pitiful attempt to defend himself. This was the end, for sure…

And then it happened.

He felt a heavy thump on his chest, instantly thereafter accompanied by a massive disruption in the Force, the magnitude of which he couldn't even begin to comprehend. He tentatively opened his eyes, unsure of what he might find.

His mother was still looming over him, but she was bent over, her head bowed so that he couldn't see her face. Her right arm was outstretched and her mechanical hand which was still clutching the Darksaber was rested on top of his chest. Evidently she had deactivated the blade as she had swung down at him.

"Anakin!"

Looking up and away from Shmi, Anakin saw his father rushing toward him, his eyes wide with terror. Turning back to look at Shmi, Anakin cautiously placed his hand atop her mechanical one.

"Mom?" he asked.

"I'm so sorry, Ani."

Anakin gasped when she looked back up at him and their eyes met. No longer were her eyes tainted by yellow and black. Instead, returned had the eyes of his mother. They were glassy and distant, but the gentle brown was unmistakable.

Shmi Skywalker had returned.

Abruptly, she retracted her mechanical hand and fell to her knees by her feet, dropping the Darksaber unceremoniously as she did so. Her chin started to tremble and tears began to stream forth from her recently restored eyes, the droplets falling downward and onto the toes of his boots. Anakin watched in awe as he struggled upright into a seated position, pressing the palms of his hands against the cool floor to stabilize himself.

"Anakin! Are you alright?"

Qui-Gon had fallen to the ground by his side and had placed his hands on either side of Anakin's face. Forced to look away from his distraught mother, Anakin blinked dazedly as he nodded to his father.

"I – I'm fine," he stammered. "Mom..."

Qui-Gon's expression hardened as he swiveled his head toward Shmi. "What is wrong with you?" he asked with uncharacteristic virulence. "You nearly killed our son! You –"

Qui-Gon's diatribe ceased abruptly when Shmi looked up once more, this time to meet her husband's furious gaze. Upon seeing her eyes, Qui-Gon's own widened in disbelief.

"Shmi?" he said.

"Obi-Wan was right about me," she wailed, her fingers scratching her cheeks as she dragged them down. "I am a monster!"

Qui-Gon and Anakin remained silent, unable to refute this undeniable truth.

"I tried to kill my own son!" she cried.

Anakin gulped and looked at his father whose face was taut, a single tear rolling down his grizzled cheek. "But you didn't," he said softly. "You didn't do it, Shmi."

"It's over, Mom," Anakin added, his voice sounding strained much like Qui-Gon's. "You brought balance to the Force."

"At what cost?" she asked, sagging her shoulders and covering her face with her hands as sobs wracked her body.

Neither her son nor her husband had any answers for her.

* * *

An hour later, Qui-Gon was slouching back in his chair as he pinched the bridge of his nose firmly. His knees were aching, his hips burning, and his head pounding, but he didn't allow himself to succumb to his exhaustion. There was still too much work to do.

The door to the conference room slid open and Qui-Gon looked up to see Obi-Wan walk in, followed closely by Yoda and Senator Organa. His former Padawan's arm was suspended in a sling and his wounded shoulder was swathed in a heavy layering of gauze.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, straightening his back as he sat back upright. "What are you doing up? You should be resting!"

Obi-Wan smiled thinly as he made a beeline for the nearest chair on Qui-Gon's left. "I know," he confessed as he sat down, wincing slightly as he rubbed his injured shoulder gingerly. "I'm maxed out on pain meds, but it still stings like crazy."

"Pierced by an exceptional blade, you were," Yoda commented as he too scrambled onto his elevated seat, his cane cast aside against the opposite wall. "Unlike other lightsabers, the Darksaber is."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan agreed, shaking his head as he reached to his belt. Qui-Gon frowned as he watched Obi-Wan produce the very weapon Yoda had just referenced.

"Where did you get that?" Qui-Gon asked when Obi-Wan set the hilt down on the table in front of him.

"Anakin gave it to me after the droids applied my bandages," Obi-Wan explained. "He wants me to return it to Mandalore where it belongs. He says his mother has no need of it anymore."

"That was wise of him," Qui-Gon said, grateful for his son's proactiveness.

"Very true," Obi-Wan concurred. "He and I talked a great deal, actually. We came to an agreement regarding the future of the Order."

Yoda leaned forward in his chair and pointed a stubby finger at Obi-Wan. "Consult me, you did not?" he asked accusatively.

"I am consulting you now," Obi-Wan said tartly. Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow, surprised by Obi-Wan's testy behavior toward the Grand Master. Obi-Wan returned his attention to Qui-Gon, clearly preferring to speak to him than to Yoda. "Anakin and I want to forge a new order," he said.

"A new order?" Qui-Gon repeated. "You mean to say you want the Jedi to end?"

"We want to reform the Order," Obi-Wan clarified, glancing momentarily at Yoda. "We think the code needs to be rewritten."

Qui-Gon smiled faintly and tilted his head back, stroking his chin as he did so. "I see," he said, beaming at his old Padawan proudly. "You do want to return to Mandalore, don't you?"

Obi-Wan nodded and reciprocated Qui-Gon's smile. "I do," he said. "It has been far too long."

Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw Yoda and Organa glance at each other, clearly bemused by this apparent non-sequitur. "I am proud of you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "It seems you have grown a lot in the past three years."

"We want to found an order based on your ideals, Master," Obi-Wan told him. "For that reason, it is only fitting that we name it after you."

"How do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, feeling simultaneously flattered and embarrassed by this request.

"The Knights of Jinn," Obi-Wan expounded. "Anakin has always wanted to be able to use his father's name, anyway. This gives him a way to do that."

Qui-Gon shook his head, unwilling to condone this proposition. "Obi-Wan, I'm honored, but I don't deserve this adulation," he said. "It is thoroughly unwarranted."

Obi-Wan snorted and rolled his eyes. "I knew you would say that," he said.

"What say you, Master Yoda?" Qui-Gon asked, diverting the conversation away from the subject of his alleged humility. He didn't feel comfortable receiving this undue praise from Obi-Wan in light of his nearly catastrophic failure.

"Reform, the code needs not," Yoda said definitively. "Corrupted, Skywalker was, because follow the code, she did not."

Aggrieved, Qui-Gon opened his mouth to offer a stern retort but Obi-Wan spoke before he could. "Master Yoda, it is naïve to assume that Skywalker's disregard for the code was a mere aberration," he said diplomatically. "I can guarantee you that far fewer members of the Order were as dedicated to the code as you might believe."

Yoda narrowed his eyes and made a side glance at Qui-Gon. "More diligent, we must be," he said. "Not more lenient."

"Leniency is what ended this conflict in the first place!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, not allowing Obi-Wan to interrupt him this time. "Shmi never would have returned to the light had we not been willing to show forgiveness."

"Returned to the light, has she?" Yoda asked skeptically.

"Do you doubt me?" Qui-Gon asked bitingly.

"Once fallen to the dark side, return one cannot," Yoda said with a bow of his head. "Proven wrong, I hope I could be," he added.

"She will prove you wrong," Qui-Gon said at once. "And so will this new order."

Yoda's ears drooped a bit, clearly dubious about this assurance. "Change your mind, I cannot," he said morosely. "Powerless, I am now."

"You won't join this order on principle?" Qui-Gon asked, aghast by Yoda's unflagging intransigence. He was so embroiled in his dogma that he was entirely unwilling to change his mind.

"Retire, I will," he said plaintively. "Need me, you do not."

Qui-Gon shook his head yet didn't attempt to convince the Grand Master otherwise. If he was frank, it was a relief that Yoda had decided to step aside. It was time for new leadership.

"Perhaps we should discuss the logistics sometime else," Qui-Gon suggested to Obi-Wan. "I'd very much like to see Anakin. Where is he?"

"With Padmé," Obi-Wan told him.

"Oh," Qui-Gon said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. "I'll wait then."

"She's still asleep, I'm sure Anakin wouldn't mind," Obi-Wan assured him. "He probably wants to talk to you as well, anyway."

"Very well," Qui-Gon said. "I will speak with him."

* * *

Anakin was seated on a chair by Padmé's bedside back in the operating room, Luke and Leia miraculously both asleep in their cradles. He had placed his hand atop Padmé's on the bed and was looking up at her sleeping face with a clenched jaw.

His mother had nearly killed her. He had woken up to see Padmé suspended in the air by her throat, her eyes rolling back into her skull. Shmi had been standing atop the stairs with her mechanical arm raised, Obi-Wan's prone form on the ground by her feet. Never before had Anakin experienced terror as raw and all-encompassing as he had in that moment. Padmé and Obi-Wan – two of the most important people in the galaxy to him – had been seconds away from death.

His terror gave way to rage as he managed to stagger back to his feet and rush toward Shmi, lightsaber held high over his head. He had acted on pure instinct, smashing the deactivated hilt into his mother's temple and sending her tumbling down to the ground.

He had wanted to kill her. She would have deserved it. His finger had hovered over the trigger of his father's lightsaber, itching to press down and deliver the final blow, desperate to ensure that never again would his friends and family be in danger from the monster that was Elegius.

Yet even after everything she had done, Anakin still hadn't been able to do it. He simply was unable to kill his own mother, no matter how horrible she may be.

Had he made a mistake? Should he have given into his instincts and struck her down like Obi-Wan had wanted him to do? After all, the fact that he had emerged victorious this time around didn't mean that the threat had been extinguished all together. His mother was still very much capable of destroying everything he held dear.

In spite of her apparent redemption, Anakin couldn't be sure that Shmi was no longer a threat. The ambiguity of her surrender troubled him; while she had indeed told him that she was sorry, she hadn't committed to abdicating power like they all wanted her to do. It had been a wise idea to take the Darksaber away from her, but even so her power was unparalleled. Anakin had no doubt that she could dispose of him and Obi-Wan without a lightsaber should she choose to do so.

"How is she?"

Startled, Anakin spun his head around toward the door to see that his father had entered, ensconced on his trusty wheelchair. Evidently he had managed to sneak up on him once again.

"Alright," Anakin said, his pulse decelerating quickly as his shock dissipated. "She wasn't harmed," he added in a hushed tone so as not to wake Padmé or the twins.

Qui-Gon bowed his head and wheeled himself forward a few feet. "That's good," he said wearily.

"She could have been, though," Anakin said, releasing Padmé's hand and orienting his chair so that he could face his father directly. "She would have died if I hadn't acted. She would have killed her."

"I know it," Qui-Gon said gravely. "But you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Do I?" Anakin asked. "How do we know she isn't going to come back?"

"Elegius, you mean?"

Anakin nodded, snarling involuntarily at the vile name.

"Elegius is gone," Qui-Gon said confidently. "She won't return."

"How can you know for sure?" Anakin asked, immediately dismissive of his father's optimism.

"I can't," Qui-Gon admitted with a shrug. "But I have faith."

"Faith isn't good enough," Anakin said brusquely.

"Perhaps not, but it's all we have," Qui-Gon countered. "I believe in her, Anakin. I know that you don't, and that's understandable. Just promise me you won't antagonize her."

"She tried to kill my wife!" Anakin exclaimed in an angry whisper. "She was moments away from killing me and Obi-Wan as well! You think I can just forgive her after that?"

Qui-Gon shook his head and rubbed his temples with his index fingers, clearly exhausted by everything that had happened to this point. Sighing loudly, Qui-Gon took a few moments before looking back up at Anakin, the dull glint in his eyes revealing his weariness.

"I'm not asking you to forgive her," he said in a husky voice. "I'm asking you to let her heal."

"Heal?" Anakin repeated skeptically. "You really think that's possible? After everything she's done?"

"I don't know," Qui-Gon confessed once again. "But we owe it to her to give her another chance. You especially, Anakin."

"Is that so?" Anakin asked, an edge to his voice at this assessment.

"She sacrificed everything for you, Ani," Qui-Gon told him plaintively, closing his eyes as his neck sagged forward. "She threw away everything she had ever known and was willing to be sold into slavery for your sake. Did she lose her way later on? Sure, but that doesn't mean that your debt to her is voided."

Anakin bit his tongue and looked away, unsure how to react to his father's words. He understood what he was saying and to an extent he actually agreed with him; he did have a responsibility to restoring his mother and purging the darkness from her. Even so, he wasn't sure he would be able to commit to this. He was so angry at her for what she had done and for what she had almost done.

"You should talk to her at some point," Qui-Gon said, raising his head and placing his hands on the wheels of his chair. "It doesn't have to be now, nor does it have to be at any point in the immediate future. But eventually, you need to talk to her."

Anakin nodded solemnly and glanced back at Padmé who was still sound asleep. "I know," he said. Pausing for a long moment, Anakin's eyes defocused as he considered what he wanted to say to his father. What did you say to a person you had thought to be dead for three years?

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," he said finally, turning back to meet Qui-Gon's gaze. "It was wrong of me to do that."

Qui-Gon smiled faintly at this apology. "It was wrong of me to accuse you as well," he said. "I am very proud of you, Anakin. You will make a far greater man and husband than I ever was."

Anakin reciprocated his father's smile, blushing slightly as he looked down. It felt like undue praise – Anakin doubted anyone could ever claim to be a greater man than his father – but he relished the compliment regardless.

"I should be going," Qui-Gon said after a long, comfortable silence. "I'll leave you with your family."

"Where are you going?" Anakin asked as Qui-Gon started to roll himself back toward the door.

"To speak with your mother," he said simply before spinning his wheelchair around to leave.

* * *

Shmi was seated at the base of the stairs in the observation room, her head locked between her knees which were tucked into her chest. She was rocking back and forth with nauseating rapidity, a soft pattering sound echoing in the vast room whenever her back made contact with the bottom stair.

The muscles in her arms had begun to strain after having wrapped them tightly around her knees for the entire duration of her self-imposed internment in the room. She didn't know how long she had been there – whether it be hours or days – but the triviality of time no longer concerned her.

She felt queasy. Disgust broiling and simmering so much so that she felt sick to her stomach. Over and over again, she replayed the incident which had taken place precisely where she was now seated…

Why had she swung down at her own son? For a moment she had been paralyzed as she stood over Anakin's defenseless form, the Darksaber elevated above her head. She had felt remorse and guilt on a scale incomprehensible to her beforehand. In that one instant she had seen herself through Obi-Wan's eyes and saw the monster that she had become. She had realized how Sidious had never truly been defeated, but merely reincarnated in herself just like Qui-Gon had forewarned.

She had known that she needed to stop and lay down her arms. Yet she swung down anyway.

Why?

The fact that she had somehow managed to deactivate the blade in time before it sliced through her son's chest was immaterial to her. The very act of bringing her weapon down upon her own child, regardless of the outcome, was an unforgivable offense.

In her rage-induced state, she had dehumanized all of the people whom she claimed to love; she had ceased to recognize Anakin as her son and instead she had seen him as a mere asset who was critical to her greater aspirations; Padmé had been reduced to a faceless foe wielding a blaster, no different than a battle droid or a clone; Qui-Gon had been dismissed entirely as an irrelevant outsider on account of the lack of threat he posed to her.

And therein lied the fundamental fiction of Plagueis' teachings. He had told her that love was a crucial component to the dark side, yet now Shmi understood that this was only half true. Of course, her love for Anakin and Qui-Gon had enhanced her powers so much so that she had become practically invincible versus the Jedi or Sidious. She had weaponized her love just like Plagueis had wanted her to do, yet in the process she had forgotten _how_ to love.

She had been consumed by the dark side, but not in the manner Plagueis had feared. In the act of falling over the precipice, Sidious had plunged never to return again whereas she had managed to stop herself, clawing back to the light by the tips of her fingers – mechanical or otherwise. And while she had somehow succeeded in pulling herself back into the light, she had lost everything in the process.

It was in this sense that the dark side had destroyed her. She had realized her folly far too late and now she no longer deserved the love of the family she had long craved to have. It wouldn't be fair to Qui-Gon to pretend as if she could be his wife once more after what she had done. It wouldn't be right to be a grandmother to Luke and Leia when she had nearly killed both of their parents. It would be immoral for her to try and be a mother to Anakin after she had come so close to committing the ultimate sin.

And so she would have to be alone forevermore, isolated from the galaxy and from the Force itself. She was too dangerous to be kept alive, yet not worthy of embracing death prematurely. Perhaps she should return to Tatooine. It was there with the rest of the scum of the galaxy where she belonged, anyway.

"Our son has become quite an impressive young man."

Shmi ceased rocking yet made no other indication that she had heard Qui-Gon who had evidently entered the room without her realizing. Her whole body stiffened at his arrival, guilt and self-loathing compounding further still by his mere proximity.

"He and Obi-Wan are going to found a new order," Qui-Gon told her, apparently ignorant of or insouciant toward her desire for solitude. "They want to name it after me," he added with a self-deprecating snort. "The Knights of Jinn. I hate to admit it, but it's got a nice ring to it."

"Why are you here?" Shmi asked curtly, her voice sounding hoarse and raspy due to lack of use.

Without looking up, she could sense Qui-Gon sitting down in front of her, his tired joints cracking audibly as he did so. She heard him sigh as he settled himself a few feet away from her, the process of getting down to the ground clearly arduous for him.

"I've come to see my wife," he said finally, his voice rich and mellifluous as always. "Do I need any more reason than that?"

"I'm not your wife, Qui-Gon," she said, head still bowed to the floor and her eyes remained closed shut. "I'm a monster."

"I fail to see how those two identities are mutually exclusive," Qui-Gon quipped, his voice remarkably chipper given the solemnity of the situation. Had he somehow forgotten that she had nearly killed his son?

She heard Qui-Gon grumble, clearly frustrated by her reticence. "You don't have to do this to yourself, Shmi," he said, his vain attempt at levity disappearing as he adopted a more somber tone. "You don't have to give up because you made a mistake."

At this, Shmi finally lifted her head to look at Qui-Gon, tears streaking down her face from her bloodshot eyes. "A mistake?" she repeated incredulously. "Is that what you think that was?"

"What else would you call it?" he asked softly.

"A crime," she said, her face contorting bitterly as she looked away to the left so as to evade Qui-Gon's solicitous eyes. "A sin. A barbaric act."

"It was all of those things," Qui-Gon agreed. "But at its core, it was just a mistake. Do you know why?" Shmi shook her head, still refusing to look Qui-Gon in the eyes. "Because you feel remorse," he told her. "You regret doing it."

"Of course I do," she said, choking up slightly as she shut her eyes tight once more and tucked her head against her left shoulder which was still stinging from the blaster wound.

"You understand what you did was terrible, and therefore you deserve forgiveness," Qui-Gon told her. "You deserve a chance at retribution."

"No," Shmi said at once, biting her tongue angrily as she shook her head. "I don't deserve anything."

Much to her surprise, Qui-Gon didn't contradict her right away. Instead, he remained silent for a long while, allowing her words to hang in the air. Grateful for the silence, Shmi looked down at the floor and wiped her eyes with her mechanical hand, the cool metal unable to absorb the tears like regular flesh would have been able.

"I want you to come back," Qui-Gon said after nearly a full minute of silence. "We can finally live openly together like we've always wanted. We can finally be a family together. Don't you want that?"

"Of course I do, Qui-Gon!" Shmi exclaimed, gritting her teeth as she spoke to the floor rather than to her husband's aged face. "But I don't deserve that! I can't be your wife after what I did. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"But I don't care," Qui-Gon retorted with characteristic obstinacy. "I don't care about what's fair or what's right. I want my wife back, damnit!"

"She's gone, Qui-Gon!"

"She's not gone! She's sitting right in front of me!"

Exasperated, Shmi pressed her hands against her forehead and clenched her jaw so tightly that her whole face shook. Why was Qui-Gon making this so difficult? Why couldn't he see that she couldn't return to him?

"When we were married, I knew that you felt guilty," Qui-Gon said suddenly. Bemused by this unprompted disclosure, Shmi looked up to see him smiling faintly at her. "You never told me, but I knew. You felt so terrible that I sacrificed my dreams so that you might obtain yours. I wanted a family. You wanted to be a Master. We couldn't have both."

Shmi said nothing, remembering that gut-wrenching conflict which had afflicted her for the first three years of her marriage to Qui-Gon. She hadn't thought about that in years, decades even…

"That guilt never did any of us any good," Qui-Gon continued. "You told me yourself that it was that guilt that convinced you to run away to Tatooine because you didn't know I was the father. And now that same guilt has convinced you to run away from me again."

"I'm not running away, Qui-Gon –"

"No, that's exactly what you're doing," Qui-Gon interrupted with jarring brusqueness. "You're giving up on yourself and you're giving up on our marriage."

"I'm not giving up, I'm doing what has to be done," she rebutted.

"Would you stop it with that self-righteous nonsense!" Qui-Gon bellowed. "You don't have to do this anymore than you had to run away when you found out you were pregnant twenty-three years ago. You're choosing the easy path, Shmi. You're choosing to run away again because you don't want to confront yourself and come to terms with what you've done."

Shmi shook her head again but didn't offer a retort this time, her chin trembling precariously as renewed tears welled up in her tightly-shut eyes.

"If you won't do this for yourself, please do it for me," Qui-Gon said, the vehemence of his voice enervating but the determination not eroded in the slightest. "You said you felt so guilty about not being able to make any sacrifices for me when I made so many for you. Why don't you return the favor now? That's all I want, Shmi. I want you back by my side."

Shmi sniffled and winced as she rubbed her eyes with her left hand, the pain in her shoulder flaring up at the motion. Disregarding the searing sensation, Shmi considered Qui-Gon's heartfelt entreaty.

The latter half of her life had been forged by regret and guilt, just like how Qui-Gon was saying. He was entirely right that she had decided to run away from him and the Jedi in large part because she felt guilty about what had happened to her. It was irrational, of course, but she had blamed herself for allowing Sidious to rape her. Furthermore, she had felt horribly guilty about being pregnant but not with Qui-Gon's child, or so she thought at the time. All he had ever wanted was to start a family with her and she had rebuffed him time and time again only to get pregnant by Sidious' despicable designs.

She had run away because she hadn't wanted to ruin Qui-Gon's career by asking him to help her raise a child who wasn't even his. Ten years later, however, that guilt returned with a vengeance when she learned that Qui-Gon was in fact Anakin's father and she had been responsible for tearing him away from his son for the first ten years of Anakin's life. It was this guilt which had pushed her toward joining Plagueis and abandoning Qui-Gon once again.

And now that the guilt had returned, she was going to do the same thing she had always done: run away and leave her husband behind. Of all the monstrous things she had done, this was one of the worst; over and over again she had abandoned the man whom she claimed to love, always for some ostensibly noble reason but in reality because she couldn't deal with the guilt.

She couldn't do that to him again. She didn't deserve him, but he didn't deserve to have his heart broken by her for a third time. For the first time in her life, she would choose to prioritize Qui-Gon's wishes over her own.

For the first time in her life, she would not succumb to the guilt. This time, she would come home.


	29. Light

_Five days later_

_Coruscant_

"What, am I not good enough for you? Is that it?"

An exasperated Anakin did his best to keep his vexation at bay as he rocked Leia, the baby girl wailing uproariously and incessantly in his arms. Anakin paced back and forth on the patio of Padmé's apartment while the late afternoon traffic rushed by above and below him, the orange light of the fading sun bathing him and his children in a gentle golden hue. Luke – whom Anakin could unabashedly declare his _favorite _child at the moment – was blissfully silent as he lay in his floating crib to Anakin's left, the polar opposite of his irascible sister.

"Well that's too bad, because it looks like we're stuck with each other," Anakin said, not entirely sarcastically. "Your mother is still at the Senate and I'd reckon she's going to be there for a while, so maybe you should come to terms with me like Luke has, huh?"

Unconvinced by his logic, Leia continued to cry and shriek in his arms, causing Anakin to roll his eyes. It had been three days since they had left Polis Massa, and ever since they had returned to Coruscant, Anakin had been relegated to babysitting duties while Padmé undertook the impossible task of salvaging what was left of the Republic after Elegius had shattered it.

Despite having given birth merely days prior, Padmé had insisted upon being the one to inform the Senate about Elegius' abdication. She hadn't told the full truth of course – no one was to know that Elegius was once the Jedi Knight Shmi Skywalker and the mother of Anakin – but she had revealed a great deal, including the fact that Qui-Gon was in fact alive and that she and Anakin were married.

After that startling press conference, she and Senator Organa had taken up the mantle of resolving the power vacuum at the top of the Republic now that Elegius was gone and Palpatine assassinated. Anakin didn't know exactly what this work entailed, but he knew it was arduous to the extreme as demonstrated by the heavy rings under his wife's eyes when she returned home late at night and left first thing in the morning.

While Anakin was immeasurably proud of Padmé and deeply impressed by her dedication, he couldn't deny that he missed her. He felt entirely out of his element taking care of the twins and it was obvious they needed their mother more so than they needed him. Leia made that point especially clear, as she spent nearly every waking minute crying and protesting his presence. Luke was far less clamorous in his objections, but Anakin could tell that he too missed his mother. It made Anakin feel thoroughly inadequate as a parent to know that his own children didn't seem to have any sort of affinity for him.

"_Why don't you ask your parents for help?_" Padmé had suggested when he had confessed his frustrations to her late last night. "_I'm sure your mother will know how to help._"

Anakin had shot her down immediately, shocked that she would even suggest such a thing. "_She nearly killed you, Padmé!_" he had exclaimed. "_There's no way I'm letting her near our children! Not in a million years!_"

While Padmé had been too tired to argue with him then, he knew she was disappointed with him for his steadfast refusal to forgive his mother. Anakin couldn't understand why she was so willing to forgive Shmi after what she had done to her. Was she not horrified of his mother like he was? Had she somehow forgotten how much she had despised Elegius mere weeks ago?

Either way, Anakin was alone for the meantime. Padmé had called her parents who were on Naboo to come to the capital to assist him, but they wouldn't be here for at least another week. Anakin couldn't deny that he was deeply nervous about meeting his parents-in-law for the first time. How would they react to learning that their daughter had been married to him in secret for three years?

Such qualms were trivial, however, in relation to all the other problems he had swirling around in his mind. First and foremost was the question of his mother's supposed redemption. He hadn't spoken to Shmi since she had nearly killed him five days ago on Polis Massa. She and Qui-Gon had taken a separate vessel from him and Padmé to Coruscant and to the best of his knowledge, they were still on the planet, most likely at his father's apartment. Qui-Gon had assured him that Elegius would never return, but Anakin couldn't be so sure. What if she decided she had made a mistake in abdicating? What if she came up with some convoluted rationalization to return to the limelight and seek power once more?

He would have to kill her if that happened. He, Obi-Wan, and the rest of the Knights of Jinn – assuming there would be other knights in the future, that is – would not let such an eventuality come to pass. Through her destruction of the Sith and Jedi, Shmi had managed to bring the Force into balance. It was now up to them to keep it that way.

The new order was still a nebulous concept, however. With Yoda retired and Anakin preoccupied with his children, Obi-Wan had assumed the sole responsibility of tracking down any survivors of the purge. Even he had been delayed, however, having elected to go to Mandalore first to return the Darksaber and ultimately – so Anakin hoped, at least – to properly apologize to the Duchess Satine. He hoped that when Obi-Wan returned, the two of them could truly begin to bring their new order to fruition, but he had to keep his expectations low lest he get burned. While Sidious was indeed dead and Elegius gone for the time being, the galaxy was still in a state of entropy. They would have to tread carefully going forward if this new order was going to succeed. After all, it was the hubris of the previous order which had precipitated its demise.

Anakin was stirred from his ruminations when he noticed something odd. In fact, it was the lack of something which attracted his attention. He heard…

Silence.

Stunned, Anakin looked down to see that Leia had finally ceased crying. She had nuzzled up against his chest and was looking up at him with wide, glassy brown eyes. Leia had never before looked so comfortable in his arms; she had used to be stiff as a board and entirely averse to his touch whenever he held her. Now she looked like how she did in Padmé's arms: content and somewhat sleepy.

"Maybe you're not so bad after all," Anakin said as he grinned down at his baby girl. At this, Leia made a soft gurgling sound, causing Anakin's smile to broaden and his stress to melt away.

Maybe none of it would be as bad as he feared, after all. Maybe the worst really was over.

* * *

_Mandalore_

With two heavily armed Mandalorian guards on either flank, Obi-Wan was escorted down the hallways of the Palace on Sundari. Marching solemnly into the main hall, Obi-Wan held the hilt of the Darksaber in his hands in front of him, the hallowed weapon wrapped in fine, embroidered cloth.

Chin held high, Obi-Wan met the eyes of the woman to whom he sought to bestow this weapon: Satine Kryze. Seated atop her relatively modest throne, Satine met his gaze with an unreadable expression, clearly surprised by his presence yet too stately to reveal such shock to him.

Well versed in the courtly etiquette of Mandalore, Obi-Wan came to a stop several meters in front of Satine's throne. Getting down on one knee, Obi-Wan bowed his head and held the Darksaber up high. He bit his tongue fiercely so as to mitigate the pain in his shoulder where this very weapon had pierced him less than a week ago. His arms quaked, yet he refused to succumb to the pain and lower the blade.

"Master Kenobi, you may rise," Satine said after a few moments. Relieved, Obi-Wan dropped his arms quickly and got to his feet, a grimace imprinted on his face as he met Satine's eyes once more.

"Your Grace, I have come to Mandalore to return the Darksaber to its rightful owner," he said, his sonorous voice booming in the high-domed hall. "She who pilfered this blade three years ago is no more."

Satine arched an eyebrow at this and leaned forward slightly in her throne. "Is that so?" she asked in a low voice. "How did this come about?"

Obi-Wan hesitated as he glanced down at Satine's advisors who were standing on either side of the throne. He certainly couldn't tell her the full truth, as that was classified information to which not even the Senate of the Republic was privy. Besides, Satine didn't even know who Elegius was in the first place.

"I am afraid it is not within my rights to say," he said therefore, cringing slightly when Satine narrowed her eyes at this. "What matters is that the blade of Mandalore has returned home."

Satine's expression remained skeptical, yet she stood up from her throne anyway and began to descend the stairs toward him. At once, Obi-Wan made to lower himself to the ground once more to offer her the Darksaber, yet Satine stopped him before could.

"There is no need, Master Kenobi," she said hastily, now at eye level with him as she continued to approach. "I can see that you are wounded. It is not the way of the Mandalorian to inflict undue suffering on her guests."

Obi-Wan bowed his head appreciatively and kept it lowered as he extended the swathed Darksaber to her. He inhaled sharply when he felt Satine's hand brush over his as she unwrapped the blade in his hands and took it. Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan lowered his hands and stuffed the fabric in his robes as he watched Satine inspect the Darksaber.

"It is unblemished," she said, sounding relieved as she turned the hilt over in her bony hands. Tentatively, she placed her finger over the trigger and activated the weapon, the jet-black blade erupting to life with a deafening crackle. "And the blade untarnished," she commented, the black blade reflected in her pale blue eyes. "You have performed a great service returning this saber to its home, Master Kenobi," she said upon sheathing the blade. "You are forever in our gratitude."

"I was merely performing my duty," Obi-Wan said automatically, instinctively refusing the praise.

Satine frowned and tilted her chin upward, clearly displeased by his humility. "Indeed," she said stiffly as she took a step away from him. "That is the way of the Jedi, is it not? Duty above all else."

Obi-Wan winced, the passive aggressive comment biting him with equivalent affliction as the Darksaber had. "I am a Jedi no longer, Your Grace," he told her, meeting her bitter eyes with unwavering resolve. "The Jedi Order has come to an end."

Stunned by this proclamation, Satine glanced behind her at her advisors who seemed similarly flummoxed by this information. News about the purge of the Jedi had been kept under close wraps at Padmé's insistence who felt that informing the public about their demise would inspire mass panic and dissent amongst a war-weary population. It was therefore no surprise that the Mandalorians had not known what had transpired on Coruscant a week prior.

"What happened?" Satine asked incredulously.

"Once again, I am afraid that it is not within my rights to say," he said with an apologetic bow of his head. "What I can tell you is that a new order has been formed. A new order unencumbered by the restraints of the old."

Satine arched an eyebrow, clearly catching his drift. "Do you endorse this change?" she asked.

"It was I who promulgated it," Obi-Wan said proudly, puffing out his chest in an instinctive, perhaps even primal attempt to impress her.

Rather than expressing pleasant surprise like he had envisioned, however, Satine narrowed her eyes further still at him. "How fortuitous that you had a change of mind, Master Kenobi," she said icily. "It is a shame, however, that it came far too late."

"Too late?" Obi-Wan repeated, utterly crushed by this assessment. Satine didn't respond, unwilling to meet his pleading eyes as she turned away to walk back to her throne. Feeling increasingly desperate, Obi-Wan took a step after her, prompting the Mandalorian guards on either side of him to reach to their holsters. Sensing the charge of the situation, Obi-Wan froze and took a deep breath.

"Thank you for returning the Darksaber to Mandalore, Master Kenobi," Satine said woodenly, a single leg elevated on the stair in front of her. "If there is nothing else you require, you may be dismissed."

"It's not too late, Satine," Obi-Wan said quietly, disregarding with formalities as he spoke to the woman he loved rather than to the Duchess. "It's never too late."

Satine stiffened and looked back around at him without moving her torso. "Is that what you think?" she asked, much to the bemusement of her advisors who were glancing at each other furtively.

"It's what I know," Obi-Wan said assuredly. "Give me a chance, Satine. I swear to you I won't let you down a second time."

Silence reigned as Satine lowered her leg from the step and slowly turned back to face him directly. Intimidated by the intense scrutiny she was applying to him, Obi-Wan had to struggle to resist the urge to look away – or to run, for that matter.

"I must confess, you seem to be a changed man, Obi-Wan," Satine said finally, earning a sigh of relief from Obi-Wan.

"I am," Obi-Wan concurred readily. "Please allow me to show you how I've changed. It's all I want, Satine."

He gulped audibly when Satine took another step toward him, her expression still entirely inscrutable to him. Finally, the faintest of smiles graced her lips as she nodded her head subtly.

"Very well," she said, a glint of humor and perhaps even affection sparkling in her eyes. "Perhaps a chance is in order."

Smiling broadly, Obi-Wan had never before felt so light. The burden of his guilt was finally gone, and he could practically feel his shoulders decompress accordingly. After fifteen years, he had finally made things right.

* * *

_Corsin_

"This will do just fine. Don't you think?"

Shmi shrugged, far from convinced by Qui-Gon's optimism. They were standing at the base of a vibrant green hill looking up a winding footpath toward an ancient, uninhabited temple. From Shmi's point of view, the dilapidated building was an irreparable derelict unworthy of restoration. If it were up to her, she would have let the whole thing crumble.

But it wasn't up to her. Nothing should be anymore.

Upon departing from Polis Massa, she and Qui-Gon had returned to the apartment which they had shared during the first years of their marriage over two decades ago. Neither of them had known what to do with themselves, so she supposed it made sense for them to gravitate back to the place where they had last been happy together.

It hadn't been a good idea to return, however. What they needed was a fresh start. Neither of them were the same person they had been when they had first moved into that apartment all those years ago. For Shmi, the experience had been horribly overwhelming; the second she stepped foot in that apartment, she had been bombarded by memories and regrets. The faint yet still lingering ghost of her previous self haunted her wherever she went. She hadn't been able to bear it.

And so they had left. Qui-Gon had been hesitant to leave without telling Anakin, but Shmi had been insistent. She knew that Anakin didn't want to see her. In fact, she was skeptical that he would ever want to see her again. She couldn't blame him if that was the case.

Although Shmi hadn't known where they would go when they left Coruscant, she felt an indescribable pull toward this serene little planet. Upon landing on the mossy surface, she had known at once that she had come to the right place. This world was tranquil and untainted, devoid of all the forces which might render her susceptible to the darkness. Here was the perfect place for her self-imposed exile. Here on this bastion of light, she would atone for her sins.

"We'll rebuild it," Qui-Gon said, an inspired vigor enriching his voice as he stared up at the temple, hand held over his eyes to fight off the intense morning light. "It'll be as good as new."

"We?" Shmi asked, eyebrow quirked dubiously. "You can barely walk, Qui-Gon. How are you going to help?"

"Mainly by providing moral support," he quipped, a mischievous smile emerging on his lips as he turned to look at her.

"Where are we going to get the supplies?" Shmi asked.

"I'm sure there's a town somewhere where we can buy what we need," Qui-Gon said nonchalantly. "Don't worry, my love. It will be beautiful when we're done with it, thoroughly befitting for you."

Shmi snorted sardonically at this. "I don't know, I think it's already too grand for me," she said. "Maybe a ditch or a cave would be more suitable."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Qui-Gon frown at this comment. "Would you stop doing that?" he said. "It won't do you any good to be self-deprecating all the time." When Shmi shrugged and didn't respond to this request, Qui-Gon sighed and tried a different approach. "If you're going to insist on hating yourself, could you at least refrain from vocalizing it? I find it deeply unpleasant."

Shmi closed her eyes and nodded begrudgingly. "Very well," she said heavily. "Anything for you."

Although she couldn't see him, Shmi could practically feel Qui-Gon smile at this. She too felt an unanticipated rush of warmth. It wasn't quite happiness, but it was… contentment. It pleased her to be able to place Qui-Gon's wishes above her own. After twenty-three years of deprioritizing his dreams and desires, Shmi could finally say that she was placing her husband first.

"Come on," she heard Qui-Gon say. "Let's go have a look."

Shmi opened her eyes and gave him a skeptical look. "And how do you plan on doing that?" she asked.

"Ideally with my feet," Qui-Gon answered at once with characteristic dry wit. "Although if you're willing to carry me –"

"Yeah, that's not happening," Shmi cut him off with a wry smile, her cheeks feeling stiff and uncomfortable with the motion which she hadn't performed in what felt like ages. She couldn't remember the last time she had something to laugh about…

Qui-Gon reciprocated her smile and extended his hand to her, his eyes glinting as the intense morning light reflected off his retinas. Shmi's tentative smile faded into a more melancholy expression as she contemplated her husband's withered, trembling hand. Reaching out to take it, Shmi paused when she looked down at her own.

Metal. Cold, lifeless material. The relic of the darkness which still remained with her. She hated her hand – it disgusted her.

Sensing her revulsion, Qui-Gon filled the gap between their hands and squeezed the metal with his flesh palm. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's get up that hill."

Swallowing hard, Shmi nodded and wrapped her mechanical fingers tightly around Qui-Gon's hand. Shmi kept her eyes on Qui-Gon as they began to take slow, deliberate steps up the moss-laden stone steps toward the temple. Qui-Gon managed to do quite well for the first dozen feet or so before he began to grimace.

"Are you okay?" Shmi asked quickly.

"Fine," he grumbled through gritted teeth. "I can make it."

They continued on until they were halfway up the steps when Qui-Gon suddenly tripped, his foot grazing the step and causing him to tumble forward. Shmi tried to lunge forward to stop him, but was unable to when her wounded right shoulder exploded in pain at the simple motion. Since their hands were interlocked, Shmi had no choice but to fall down with him, landing rather inelegantly by his side on the stone stairs with a dull thud.

Groaning with pain, Shmi rolled over and released Qui-Gon's hand. "You okay?" she heard him ask as he sat upright on the stair.

"Okay," Shmi said with a grimace, placing her mechanical hand over the recently-ruptured bacta bandages on her right shoulder. "I just tweaked my shoulder a bit, that's all."

"Here, let me look," Qui-Gon said, placing his hand on her good shoulder and pulling her toward him. Shmi tensed up but didn't object as Qui-Gon removed her mechanical hand from her shoulder and inspected her bloodied bandages with a frown. It suddenly struck her how close they were to each other, their faces merely inches apart as Qui-Gon looked up from her wound.

Their eyes met, and Shmi caught her breath as she marveled at the piercing blue quality of her husband's gaze. His eyes had always been the thing which she had been most attracted to. They were solicitous and kind, yet not without an element of steeliness which projected the intrinsic ardor which burned deep within him. She could remember feeling weak in the knees whenever their eyes met all those years ago when they were both young. Back then, she had tried so hard to pretend as if she wasn't enticed by him whereas he had never shown any such reservations.

"We should probably redress that," Qui-Gon said finally.

"Huh? Oh… yeah," she said awkwardly, her face feeling hot as she looked away. What had gotten into her? Since when had she transformed back into her bumbling, younger self?

"I, er… I probably shouldn't have tried to get up these stairs," he said, his own voice sounding as wooden and uncomfortable as her own. "I'm not quite ready."

Shmi felt her embarrassment fade as she looked back at him with a soft smile. "You're not," she agreed. "But you will be. In time, we'll both be." Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, Shmi leaned forward and pressed her lips against Qui-Gon's. Shocked, Qui-Gon barely had time to react before she pulled back and gave him another unabashed smile. "We'll get there together. I know it."

Qui-Gon blinked a few times before nodding, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his face broke out into a radiant smile. "I do too," he said.

Reaching out with her mechanical hand, Shmi cupped Qui-Gon's cheek – the metal of her fingers lovingly grazing his gruff, bearded face. "I love you, Qui-Gon Jinn," she told him, having never before believed in anything as strongly as she did then.

"And I love you, Shmi Skywalker," he responded.

On the slope of that hill, two broken people found themselves whole once again.

They were together at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the epilogue which will conclude this story. I will leave a more comprehensive author's note at the end of that chapter which I will post next Monday, but right now I wanted to take the opportunity to thank all my readers who have made it this far. This story means a lot to me as I'm sure you all know, so reading your reviews, critiques, and compliments is something I really appreciate.


	30. Epilogue

_Four years later_

_15 BBY – Corsin_

"I'm not sure this was a good idea."

"Anakin, you can't be serious!" Padmé hissed as the ramp to their ship began deploying, the brightness of the morning sun causing Anakin to squint and raise a hand to his eyes.

"I just…don't feel comfortable," he whispered, lowering his hand as he looked down at the twins who were standing in front of their parents. They were practically bouncing with excitement, thoroughly impatient for the ramp to finish unfurling.

Following his gaze, Padmé frowned subtly at the effervescent twins. "Children, calm down," she ordered tersely, crossing her arms in front of her for emphasis. Luke and Leia entirely disregarded this command, electing instead to rush down the ramp the second it touched down on the mossy ground.

Anakin chuckled while Padmé's frown deepened. It wasn't like them to ignore their mother like that. With Anakin, it was a different story, but the twins almost never disregarded Padmé whom they were clearly more afraid of. The fact that Padmé was unable to instill obedience in them was testament to the extent of their excitement.

And why shouldn't they be excited? After all, they were finally going to meet their grandmother for the first time in four years.

"Anakin, we've been over this," Padmé said to him as they watched from the hull of the ship as the twins frolicked in the verdant valley in which they had landed. "The twins deserve to know their grandmother. It's not fair for you to rob her of the opportunity of being in their life."

"I'm just trying to protect them, Padmé," Anakin insisted.

"They don't need to be protected," Padmé averred, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. "She's not going to hurt them."

"You don't know that!" Anakin exclaimed. "She nearly killed both of us!"

"But she's changed, Anakin," Padmé said exasperatedly, having argued with him about this countless times before. "You heard what your father said. She's happy here."

"That doesn't mean she's changed," Anakin mumbled. Padmé evidently decided to disregard this comment, taking him by the hand and all but dragging him out of the hull and down the ramp. Following reluctantly, Anakin glanced up to his right to see the restored temple at the top of the hill where his parents had been living the past four years.

The temple truly was a sight to behold. A single cobbled-stone dome which rose up several dozen feet dominated the premises and commanded Anakin's attention the moment he stepped off the ship. All things considered, it was a rather humble structure, but nonetheless there was something about it which captivated Anakin. It was as if the tower emitted a sense of tranquility which was quickly imbued within him. In spite of his still-lingering anxieties, Anakin paradoxically felt remarkably at peace in the shadow of this serene structure.

According to his father's testament, the temple had been in a state of complete disrepair when he and Shmi had first arrived. Had Qui-Gon not told him this, Anakin never would have known; the temple appeared entirely unblemished and in perfect condition. It seemed his mother had found some way to put her powers to good use, after all.

Anakin looked away from the temple sharply when he felt something prodding against his thigh. Standing beneath him was Luke, his index finger poking his leg repeatedly as he attempted to gain his father's attention. Meeting his son's wide blue eyes, Anakin smiled meekly as he was suddenly struck with a memory of himself as a child annoying his mother in very much the same manner.

"What is it, Luke?" Anakin asked, forcing the thought of his mother out of his mind.

Luke ceased poking him and glanced up toward the hill which Anakin had just been pondering. "Why doesn't grandma ever get to leave?" he asked, brow furrowed as he squinted in the direction of the temple.

Perplexed by this question, Anakin kneeled down so that he was at Luke's eye level. "What do you mean?" he asked, sparing a glance toward Padmé who was surreptitiously watching this conversation from a few feet away.

"Grandpa comes to see us on Coruscant but grandma never comes with him," Luke told him, turning to meet his father's eyes which looked so much like his own. "Why doesn't she come with him?"

Anakin pursed his lips as he contemplated how best to answer this question. He figured saying _well you see, son, your grandmother was once a psychopathic murderer who nearly killed both of your parents _wouldn't be the most tactful approach, even if it was the most honest.

For the first four years of his children's lives, Anakin had managed to avoid questions about Shmi. For the first three years they hadn't been conscious enough to even register the concept of a grandmother, but over the course of the past year they had been becoming increasingly interested in learning more about her. After all, Qui-Gon loved to tell Luke and Leia all about their grandmother Shmi whenever he came to visit them on Coruscant. Anakin had asked his father to refrain from talking about her in the twins' presence, but Qui-Gon had steadfastly declined this request. He and Padmé both felt that the children deserved to have a relationship with their grandmother, and it had been their combined pressures which had caused Anakin to finally cave.

If he was being honest, Anakin wasn't so much afraid of introducing Luke and Leia to Shmi as he was of confronting her for the first time in four years. He hadn't spoken to his mother ever since that fateful incident on Polis Massa when she had nearly killed him. With her electing to go into self-imposed exile with Qui-Gon here on Corsin, it had been quite easy for Anakin to avoid her for as long as he had. Yet he knew that he wouldn't be able to evade her forever.

Qui-Gon pestered him about it whenever he came to visit on Coruscant, insisting that he was being a coward and that it was time for him to come to terms with his mother. On the last such visit, Qui-Gon had even gone so far as to threaten never to return to Coruscant if Anakin didn't overcome his fears and agree to meet with her. And thus Anakin had been coerced into coming to Corsin – not because he wanted to, but because his father, and to a lesser extent his wife, had forced him to do it.

"Daddy?"

Blinking a few times, Anakin refocused his eyes to see Luke looking at him expectantly. He must have been lost in thought once again, something which happened to him far too often.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Anakin said, smiling thinly as he reached out to ruffle his son's unruly blonde hair. "I don't think I'm the right person to answer that question."

Luke was clearly dissatisfied with this response, but Anakin didn't give him time to ask a follow up question as he stood up swiftly and took him by the hand. Clasping Luke's much-smaller hand tightly with his own, Anakin led them back toward Padmé who was waiting by the base of the hill with Leia.

"Come on," he said, his voice sounding strained as the profundity of the situation began to really sink in. This was really happening – he was going to see his mother, the woman whom he loved and despised with practically equivalent vigor – after four whole years. "Let's go see your grandparents," he added, attempting in vain to enrich his voice with a sense of excitement for the sake of his children.

Fortunately, neither Luke nor Leia seemed to notice anything amiss with him. Releasing his hand, Luke took off up the stone staircase after his sister, squealing with delight as he passed her on his way toward the temple. Anakin swallowed hard as he came to a stop next to Padmé at the base of the hill, hand held up to his eyes as he tried to keep an eye on the twins while fighting off the morning sun.

"Well there's no point in procrastinating," Padmé said bluntly as she took his hand into her own. "Come on."

Anakin said nothing as he allowed Padmé to direct him up the mossy steps toward the temple. His legs felt heavy and his throat grew increasingly constricted as they ascended. With each passing step, horrible images of that night flashed before his eyes.

Obi-Wan on his knees, hand clasping his mutilated shoulder while Elegius prowled over him with the Darksaber in hand.

Another step.

Now it was Padmé, suspended several feet in the air while her eyes rolled into the back of her skull, the invisible grip on her throat not relenting in spite of the vigorous flailing of her legs.

Another step.

His mother's incandescent eyes boring into him as she leapt down the staircase toward his prone form, activated blade held over her head, ready to strike…

"Anakin? Anakin are you alright?"

Anakin looked to his right to see a concerned expression imprinted on Padmé's face. It seemed he had frozen up, unable to take any more steps. Unable to endure any more horrible memories.

"I'm fine," he said in a gruff voice. Turning away from her, Anakin released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in. "Let's keep going."

Jaw clenched, Anakin forced himself to make it to the top of the hill without any further episodes. All the while he could feel Padmé's eyes on him, probing his expression for any signs of further distress. He tried to keep things from her, but he doubted he ever actually succeeded. She had always been far better at reading him than he was at reading her.

With her prominent position as both a senator and a key member of Chancellor Organa's coalition, he knew his wife had enough to worry about without his own demons. Therefore whenever the nightmares came – whenever he revisited Polis Massa like he had just done moments prior – he would merely slip out of bed as quietly as he could and try not to disturb her. Whenever she woke up to find him not by her side, he would simply lie and say he was tending to one of the twins. This had been easier a few years ago when the twins were infants, but now that they were old enough to sleep through the night alone, he had to get more creative with his fibs.

He didn't know why he bothered, if he was being frank. Padmé always saw right through him whenever he lied to her. Even so, she never pressured him about it. The few times she had asked him to open up to her, he had shot her down so brusquely that she had never tried again. He felt terrible about pushing her away like that, but he felt as if he had no other choice. He knew what she would say: that he needed to come to terms with his mother.

He supposed he did, but that didn't mean he wanted to do it. He knew the experience would be painful, and he had already endured enough pain for a lifetime…

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

Roused from his dreary ruminations by the sound of his children's high-pitched voices, Anakin looked up to see that they had reached the top of stairs. Refocusing his eyes, Anakin saw the twins rushing up the gravel path toward the entrance of the temple. Standing by the door at the end of the path was the withered yet nevertheless still vibrant form of his father, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Arms held out wide, Qui-Gon kneeled down as the twins ran toward him. He and Padmé shared a smile as they watched Qui-Gon embrace both of his grandchildren simultaneously, the two twins fitting perfectly in his broad wingspan. Anakin was grateful that Qui-Gon was able to be such a big part of his children's lives. Because he was technically the Grandmaster of the Knights of Jinn, he was obliged to make fairly frequent trips to Coruscant where the new order was headquartered. Whenever he visited, he would insist on seeing the twins first thing. He absolutely adored Luke and Leia and they adored him in return.

Qui-Gon looked up to see him and Padmé approaching, a broad smile illuminating his grizzled face when their eyes met. Releasing the twins, Qui-Gon stood back up without a hint of discomfort. His physical condition had improved dramatically over the course of the past four years and he seemed happier than Anakin had ever seen him. If there was anything he could give his mother credit for, it was that she had restored his father back into the man he suspected he had been before all the hardship.

Taking a step toward them, Qui-Gon first went to greet Padmé. "It's lovely to see you again, Your Highness," he said glibly as he took both of her hands and he leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Padmé rolled her eyes yet nevertheless still smiled radiantly at Qui-Gon's facetious greeting. "Likewise, Master Jinn," she replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Their relationship had improved greatly over the years, much to Anakin's relief. They had initially been rigid and uncomfortably formal around each other, perhaps on account to long-lasting residual tension from thirteen years prior when the two had butted heads on numerous occasions. Nowadays, however, the two were on remarkably amicable terms in spite of Qui-Gon's insistence upon referring to Padmé by that defunct honorific.

Upon turning away from his daughter-in-law, Qui-Gon gave Anakin a warm smile as he extended his hand. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Anakin," he said while they shook. "Your mother is so happy."

Anakin pursed his lips and nodded absently, unable to find any words in that moment. Perhaps detecting his ambivalence, Qui-Gon's grin faded and he retracted his hand. "Why don't you and I take a walk first," he suggested. "Padmé, how about you take the twins inside? Shmi is so excited to see them."

Padmé glanced at him before nodding her acceptance. "Come on, Luke. Leia," she said, shooing the children forward toward the entrance. "Let's go meet your grandmother."

Too excited to spare any thought as to why their father wasn't joining them, Luke and Leia rushed ahead of Padmé toward the temple. Anakin and Qui-Gon watched them silently until the three of them disappeared through the door, leaving them alone in the courtyard. When the door closed shut behind Padmé, Qui-Gon sighed audibly and placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder.

"I know how difficult this is for you, Anakin," he told him. When Anakin merely nodded at this, Qui-Gon released his shoulder and extended his hand palm up. "Come," he said. "Let's walk."

Falling into step with his father, Anakin was led around the side of the temple along the perimeter of the hill's flat apex. For a long time neither said anything as they plodded along, the fragrance of the slightly damp earth serving to distract Anakin momentarily from his troubles. Corsin truly was a beautiful planet and he was genuinely happy that his father had been able to live here undisturbed with the love of his life.

"How is the Duke?" Qui-Gon finally asked once they had reached a small garden behind the temple. Anakin's mouth twitched in amusement as he ran his hands through a field of chrysanthemums, a gentle breeze causing the pink and yellow flowers to dance about cheerily.

"You know he hates it when you call him that," Anakin said, causing Qui-Gon to chuckle.

"Well he shouldn't have married a duchess if he didn't want to be called that," Qui-Gon quipped.

"That's fair," Anakin conceded, a much-needed sense of levity developing as Anakin thought back to Obi-Wan's wedding on Sundari a few weeks prior. "I haven't seen much of him. He spends most of his time on Mandalore nowadays. He's happy, though. Happier than I've ever seen him."

"That's good," Qui-Gon said, his voice rich with pride for his former Padawan. "And what about you?" Qui-Gon asked after a brief silence. "Are you happy?"

Anakin hesitated, the seemingly innocent question catching him off guard. He had never before asked himself this. And why should he have? There had always been more pressing concerns in his life than happiness. He suspected his childhood as a slave had inhibited his proclivity toward self-reflection. His mother had always been stern with him whenever he complained about things – whether it be because of a lack of food, lack of adequate air conditioning during the sweltering summer months on Tatooine, or just the sheer boredom of working in Watto's shop. It was because of his mother that he had learned humility and how to come to terms with the meager and the mundane alike.

"I suppose I am," Anakin said finally after a long period of silent contemplation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Qui-Gon give him a skeptical look. "What, do you think I'm lying?" he asked defensively.

"Of course not," Qui-Gon said as they approached a quaint wooden bench at the end of the row of flowers. Leaning forward, Qui-Gon grabbed the curved armrest to support himself as he sat down, sighing audibly as he did so. Anakin remained standing, his hands held behind his back as he looked down at his father.

"Stand a little to the right, why don't you?" Qui-Gon told him, squinting mightily as the sun bore down on him. Complying, Anakin took a step to his right, blocking out the intense sunlight with his body. "Ah, much better. Thank you."

"I am happy," Anakin insisted with greater force now that his father was fully in the shade. "I have a family and a cause. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"I never insinuated that you weren't," Qui-Gon said smoothly.

"But –"

"Anakin, stop," Qui-Gon said, holding up a calloused hand. "I understand your predicament perfectly."

Anakin furrowed his brow at this, not understanding what it was his father was talking about. "I don't have a predicament," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and adopting a surly frown.

Qui-Gon smiled thinly at Anakin's reticence. "It's okay to admit it, Ani," he said. "You miss her, don't you?" Anakin swallowed hard and remained silent, unsure how to react to this question. "Believe me, I know what that feels like," Qui-Gon said wearily. "For nearly half my life, I was missing her."

"I don't –" Anakin started to stay, but Qui-Gon interrupted him.

"You can be happy and still miss her, Anakin," he told him. "When she disappeared for the second time, I didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, I was devastated that I had lost her again. But on the other, I got to be a father for you." Qui-Gon paused, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at him with a proud, almost cloying expression. "Believe me when I tell you that discovering that you were my son was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me."

Anakin did believe him. Not once had he ever doubted his father's love for him. Out of all the wild vicissitudes that made up his life, that was perhaps the one constant which he could always rely on. "I felt so guilty about that, though," Qui-Gon continued. "It didn't feel right for me to be happy with you when she wasn't by my side. Do you understand that?"

Anakin nodded, thinking back to the days when he had practically raised the twins all by himself because Padmé had been so busy with restoring the Senate in the aftermath of Elegius' coup. After having overcome his initial frustrations about the twins not taking to him like they did to their mother, Anakin had found himself in a state of utmost bliss when he was alone with his children. He had never before felt as fulfilled and as content as he did when he was caring for Luke and Leia. The guilt of not being able to share that experience with Padmé, however, had tainted his joy for the longest time.

"It wouldn't have been fair to you if I had allowed myself to wallow away in self-pity," Qui-Gon said, forehead creased as he stared blankly at his knee. "You needed me to be a father, and that's what I forced myself to become. Not a husband, but a father." Qui-Gon paused and looked back up to meet Anakin's gaze. "You need to make that transition as well," he said.

Anakin narrowed his eyes, a curious mixture of indignation and puzzlement rendering him silent for a few moments. "What are you trying to say?" he asked finally, a slight edge to his voice as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Anakin, I know you are a wonderful husband and an even better father," Qui-Gon prefaced. "But deep down you still identify yourself as your mother's son." Anakin opened his mouth at once to object, but Qui-Gon didn't give him the opportunity. "There's a reason why you were so reluctant to come and visit us and why it's taken you four whole years to confront her," he said. "It's not because you hate her, but because you love her."

Anakin opened his mouth, but no words came out as the veracity of that statement caught him by surprise. "You're right," he said finally, jaw clenched as he elevated his chin. "But that doesn't mean I don't hate her also."

"Of course not," Qui-Gon agreed. "But you only hate her so much because of how deeply you love her." Once again, Qui-Gon continued on without letting Anakin interject. "What I think you need to come to terms with is the fact that your mother no longer is the central actor in your life," he said. "I know it can be hard for you to admit this, but the sooner you do, the better off you'll be."

"I don't even know what that's supposed to mean," Anakin said haughtily, beginning to grow frustrated with his father's pontificating.

"Anakin, for your whole life your mother has been the most important person to you. Even when you were with me on Coruscant, it was Shmi who you really wanted by your side, not me."

"That's not true!" Anakin insisted at once.

Qui-Gon held up his hand to stop him, smiling thinly as he shook his head. "It's perfectly alright, Anakin," he said. "Your bond with your mother has always been and will always be deeper than your bond with me. There is no point in denying it." Anakin very much wanted to deny this particular claim, but he knew there was little point in arguing with Qui-Gon about it. "The point is, your life up until now has been defined in terms of your relationship with your mother. That is why you were and still are devastated by what happened on Polis Massa."

Anakin swallowed hard and looked up from his father to peer off at the horizon, a thin sheen of perspiration emerging on his forehead in the morning heat. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked after a brief silence.

"Commit yourself to your family," Qui-Gon said without pause. "Let go of the past and embrace your new life as not only a son, but as a father and a husband and a friend."

Anakin closed his eyes and lowered his head. He had never been good at introspection or at understanding why he felt the things that he felt. Despite instinctively wanting to reject what his father was saying and insist that his mother was no longer a fundamental part of his life, he knew that he couldn't. Everything made so much sense when he attributed Qui-Gon's lens of analysis to his life. There was a reason why he to this day continued to be haunted by nightmares of Polis Massa and there was a reason why he didn't feel fully happy despite having what many would consider a perfect life.

"_You should talk to her at some point,_" his father had told him that fateful day after Elegius had nearly killed him. "_It doesn't have to be now, nor does it have to be at any point in the immediate future. But eventually, you need to talk to her._"

"I suppose it's time," he said aloud as he opened his eyes.

Qui-Gon smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling with that familiar expression of pride. "Indeed it is," he confirmed. Extending his hand to him, Anakin grasped it and helped his father back to his feet. Squeezing his hand firmly, Qui-Gon reached up with his left hand and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Let's go talk to your mother," he said.

* * *

"They're absolutely beautiful, Padmé."

Her daughter-in-law merely smiled in response and glanced away toward her children who had just run off to explore the rest of the temple. As the joyous twins' footsteps faded, Shmi pursed her lips and looked down, feeling supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"I'm so sorry that you haven't been able to meet them until now," Padmé said, prompting Shmi to look back up sharply. "If it were up to me, you would have been a part of their lives."

Shmi contemplated Padmé's genuine expression for a moment before sagging her head once more. "You are a remarkable woman," she said heavily. "After what I did to you and Anakin –"

"I know that wasn't you, Shmi," Padmé interrupted, her voice emblazoned with ardor whereas Shmi's was wavering with frailty. "That was Elegius."

Once more, Shmi forced herself to overcome her shame and look back up at Padmé. Meeting her eyes, however, Shmi was overwhelmed by a surge of guilt and awkwardness. She had never been good at making conversation nor at keeping eye contact, and the fact that she had nearly killed this young woman four years ago served to amplify her preexisting social anxieties.

Perhaps detecting Shmi's tension, Padmé attempted to soothe her by reaching out and placing a hand on her forearm. Instinctively, Shmi flinched at the gesture. Padmé's hand was placed directly on the intersection of flesh and metal where her hand had been sliced off by Windu's blade, the sensation of the gentle touch shocking her to the core.

The tense moment was mercifully cut short when the soft pattering sounds of Luke and Leia's footsteps suddenly reemerged. Both women turned their heads to the right to see the twins approaching. As they ran through the circular atrium and toward the hallway where she and Padmé were standing, Shmi's upper lip curled upward at the sight. The twins were alight with that same buoyant enthusiasm which she had once cherished in her own son…

"Mommy! Mommy!"

"_What is it Ani?_"

"What is it Leia?"

"_Look what I found!_"

"Look what Luke found!"

Padmé met her children's smile with equivalent ebullience as she kneeled down so she could be on their eye level. Shmi swallowed hard and turned away, the symmetry triggering a flash of bittersweet memories. Unable to bear it, Shmi found herself walking away – her one fleshed hand trembling while her mechanical one remained conspicuously motionless.

Padmé was calling after her, but Shmi drowned the voice out as she fled. Pressing her hands to her ears, Shmi took a turn down another hallway and out of sight. Eyes shut tightly, Shmi's breathing began to accelerate and her chest heaved as she marched on.

She had known this was going to be a mistake. At Qui-Gon's insistence, however, she had acquiesced. Of course she wanted to meet her grandchildren, but she didn't feel ready to confront their parents yet. Oddly enough, it had been even worse than she had envisaged because Padmé had been so cordial with her. She had anticipated, and perhaps even hoped that she would have hated her. She had every right to do so. But she didn't. She instead said she forgave her.

How? She had strangled her! She had been so close to killing her and taking her away from her children. Those beautiful children never would have known their parents had Shmi succumbed to her impulses. She would have taken them for her own and trained them to be ruthless machines just like their grandmother.

It was somewhat of a relief to her that Anakin hadn't adopted the same mindset as his wife. She wanted him to fear her. She wanted him to know that she was a monster and that he had to do everything in his power to avoid her fate. Yet at the same time, she missed him so much. Life with Qui-Gon on Corsin was wonderful, of course, but every day she yearned to be reunited with her son whom she had been separated from for over half of his lifetime.

She hated how weak she was. She knew it was wrong for her to want Anakin back in her life, but she didn't have the discipline to stop herself. She had no right to ask for his forgiveness! And yet she desired that above all else…

Wrenching the door to the meditation chamber open, Shmi rushed inside. Sealing the door behind her, Shmi exhaled deeply as she felt her stress begin to melt away inside this serene room. Whenever she was struck by the memories or the guilt, she would come here. Whenever Qui-Gon wasn't around – whether he be on Coruscant or merely outside in the garden like he was now – Shmi took solace in the Force to ameliorate her pain.

But that's all it was: a bandage. Shmi knew that the pain would never leave her until she came to terms with not only Anakin, but with herself.

That was the crux of her conflict: she despised herself. The natural power she commanded revolted and terrified her now whereas it had once intoxicated her. She had seen what that power could do, how it could taint and corrupt even the purest of intentions. She wanted to be free of this power and with it, the pain.

Qui-Gon wouldn't let her, though. He was a fool for loving her, but who was the greater fool? Him for loving a monster or her for allowing herself to love him in return? Who was she to love him after all she had done to him and to his sons? Nearly killing Anakin was bad enough, but she had actually stabbed Obi-Wan in the shoulder without a hint of remorse! She had known that Qui-Gon loved his former Padawan in the same way in which he loved Anakin, and yet she had disregarded that fact and tried to kill both of them anyway.

Every single day for the past four years, Shmi had had this very same debate with herself. It was the most agonizing form of torture. She couldn't tell Qui-Gon about it because he refused to hear her tell him the truth: that she hated herself. He couldn't bear to know that and she couldn't bear to tell him. The lie worked, and Shmi was entirely willing to keep up the façade for as long as Qui-Gon wanted her to. They were happy together – he somewhat more so than her, but wasn't that always how their relationship had been?

But perhaps Qui-Gon wasn't as happy as she thought he was. After all, why would he be so insistent that she and Anakin come to terms? Perhaps Qui-Gon knew that she had been lying to him all along…

Shmi's eyes flew open at the abrupt sound of a brisk knock on the door which echoed loudly in the high-ceilinged chamber. Without waiting for her to admit him entry, Qui-Gon opened the door and walked over toward her swiftly, a frown imprinted on his face as he looked down at her. As she was seated cross-legged on the floor, she had to crane her neck considerably in order to meet his discontented glower.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly when he came to a stop a few feet in front of her, his shadow entirely subsuming her figure. Shmi opened her mouth to explain, but no words came to her. What could she tell him? That she had felt too guilty to speak to her daughter-in-law and too terrified to properly greet her grandchildren? That was the truth, but the truth wasn't the medium through which she and Qui-Gon most often conversed.

Detecting her reticence, Qui-Gon's countenance smoothed out as a more solicitous expression replaced the formerly judgmental one. "Padmé told me what happened," he said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone like that."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said at once in a husky voice. She meant that. Any apology from Qui-Gon was undue in her mind after everything she had done to him.

"Come on," he said as he extended his hand to her. "We should do this together."

Shmi swallowed hard as she eyed Qui-Gon's hand with apprehension. "Is… is Ani out there?" she asked in a small voice.

Qui-Gon contemplated her pained expression for a few moments before affirming her question. "He is," he said simply. "It's time, Shmi. Let's go talk to our son."

* * *

Shmi clutched her husband's hand fiercely with her fleshed left one as they walked solemnly down the hall and toward the main atrium where Anakin and his family was waiting for them. With each successive step, Shmi felt increasingly anxious and afraid. Were it not for Qui-Gon's guiding presence, she would have turned and fled long ago.

But she couldn't do that. She owed it to Qui-Gon to do this.

What even was 'this' though? Was she going to apologize? Or was Anakin supposed to apologize? If so, what for? And how were either of them going to find the strength to face each other after four whole years?

No answers presented themselves to her as she plodded forward with Qui-Gon's assistance. Taking a turn into the main aisle, Shmi inhaled sharply when she turned her head and saw him for the first time.

Anakin was standing in the center of the atrium next to Padmé, the top of his head basked in a warm golden light from the circular window at the top of the temple. He looked just as nervous as she felt, wringing his hands as he stared determinedly at the floor. Padmé got up on her toes and whispered something to him, prompting Anakin to look up sharply to see them approaching.

Shmi stopped walking abruptly when their eyes met. She was frozen in place, unable to move just like she had been that terrible day…

_Shmi, no!_

_Mom, don't…_

_Shmi! Stop!_

"Shmi? Shmi, are you alright?"

Shmi's momentary paralysis was broken when Qui-Gon gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Taking a shaky breath, she looked away from Anakin and up to her husband.

"I…I'm okay," she said unconvincingly.

Qui-Gon gave her a knowing look before nodding. "Come on," he mumbled softly. Allowing him to lead her onward, Shmi instinctively attempted to get closer to Qui-Gon, her rock. She was practically leaning against his shoulder when they emerged from the hallway and into the atrium. Shmi blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the natural light of the spacious room.

"Hello, Mom," Anakin said woodenly, he too grasping his partner's hand tightly for support as they looked at each other.

Shmi tried to reciprocate the greeting, yet found that she was unable. Her mouth felt dry and her tongue utterly immobilized. All was silent as Shmi looked back and forth between Anakin and Padmé, feeling choked up all of a sudden.

_Shmi, please…_

Padmé's eyes were rolling back in her skull as she struggled against Shmi's inexorable grip. She had mere moments before her neck would fold in on itself like Dooku's had…

_This ends now._

Anakin was standing over her with the unactivated hilt of his father's lightsaber in hand. His eyes were burning with fury yet also stinging with hurt for what she had tried to do to his wife.

_I won't kill you, Mom. I won't do it._

_Weakling._

The mellifluous sound of laughter startled Shmi back to the present, the dulcet tones ringing loudly in the atrium. Tearing her eyes away from Anakin and toward the source of this plangent music, Shmi saw the two twins running toward their parents from the opposite hallway.

Padmé and Anakin both turned around to face their children. "Luke! Leia! No running in doors!" Padmé said tersely. "Don't make me tell you again."

"That's quite alright, Padmé," Qui-Gon said with a slight chuckle. "I run up and down these halls every day for my therapy, you know." Padmé turned and gave Qui-Gon a withering glare, clearly not appreciative of his interjection. Realizing his mistake, Qui-Gon hastily made to correct himself. "I mean, er… you should listen to your mother, children," he said to the twins.

Luke and Leia smirked at each other yet offered no objection to this. An awkward silence ensued, the tension in the room so palpable even the twins must have detected it. Finally, Qui-Gon cleared his throat and spoke.

"Hey, Padmé, why don't I give you and the twins a tour," he suggested, giving Shmi a side glance as he did so. "Let Anakin and Shmi do some catching up."

Shmi's eyes widened at this proposition and she tightened her grip on Qui-Gon's arm so as to prevent him from leaving her. Anakin looked similarly distressed by this proposal and he opened his mouth to object.

"I don't think that's –"

"That's a lovely idea, Qui-Gon," Padmé interrupted her husband in a loud voice. She gave Anakin a pointed look as she released his hand and took a step toward Qui-Gon. "Lead the way?"

Qui-Gon grimaced slightly as he managed to wrench his hand out of Shmi's ironclad grasp. "I'd be delighted," he said, flexing his fingers gingerly behind his back. Shmi and Anakin both watched with horrified expressions as their respective spouses walked away speedily.

How could he have betrayed her like that? This must have been Qui-Gon's plan all along! That blasted nerf herder…

For a full minute, neither Shmi nor Anakin said anything as they listened to the footsteps retreat and finally disappear entirely. Realizing she had no choice but to talk with him, Shmi reluctantly looked up at her son.

He evidently had not been as bold as she as his eyes were still fixated on the horizon where Padmé, Qui-Gon, and the twins had gone. Feeling her eyes on him, however, Anakin slowly turned his head back around to meet her gaze.

All was still. They just stared at each other for the longest time, neither knowing what to say nor how to say it.

"You look well," she said finally, her voice cracking midway through.

"You do too," Anakin commented.

Shmi nodded and looked away as she fought against the urge to run. She so wanted to go hide in the meditation chamber once more, but she couldn't. She could run away from everyone else, but not Anakin. She couldn't run away from her son. She never could.

"Ani –" she began to say, but he cut her off.

"Don't call me that," he said brusquely.

Shmi winced and nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry," she apologized at once. "I didn't mean to –"

"Why did you do it?"

Shmi caught her breath and looked up at Anakin, the bitterness in his tone causing her lower lip to tremble. He hated her. Of course he did.

"Why did you try to kill me?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head vigorously. "Don't ask a question you already know the answer to, Anakin," she told him. "You know very well why I did what I did."

"Actually, I don't," Anakin said bitingly as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I resisted it, Mom. I felt the darkness, but I didn't give into it like you did. Why couldn't you reject it like I did?"

Shmi's voice caught in her throat when she saw that Anakin's eyes were mirroring her own, glistening with unshed tears as he looked down at her. It crushed her to see him like this. Even though she had managed to press the trigger just in time to stop the Darksaber from plunging through him, she had hurt her son deeply by bringing the despicable weapon down on him at all. In that moment, her son's perception of her had finally been shattered completely.

That must have been a devastating experience for him. She knew that Anakin had always looked up to her as his idol. Beyond that, Anakin had loved her in the purest possible way. The bond between mother and son had been so strong that it had taken only the most barbaric of acts to sever. And that's what she had done. She had performed the most heinous act of barbarism imaginable; she had tried to kill her own child.

"I don't have an answer for you, Anakin," she confessed as tears began to stream down her cheeks. "All I can tell you is that I feel horrible. I feel so, so horrible for what I did to you. Every single day I'm haunted by what I did."

Anakin gulped and looked down at his feet. "I'm haunted too," he said in a voice that was barely audible. "I still have nightmares of that night."

_Mommy, I'm scared._

_What are you afraid of, Ani?_

_I had a nightmare. A bad man was coming to get me._

_It was just a dream, Ani. No one is going to get you. I won't let them._

"I want to be free of this pain."

"And I want to be free of this guilt."

"So how do we do it? How do we gain our freedom?"

After all this time, they were still slaves. And it was all her fault.

She had been the one to turn herself into the slave traders, and she had been the one to reinforce their chains even after they had left Tatooine behind.

She was responsible for it all.

"There's something you should see."

Shmi wiped her eyes and sniffled loudly. Looking down, she saw Anakin reach into his robes. When his hand reemerged, Shmi's eyes widened in disbelief when she saw what he was holding.

"We found it at the base of the Senate building," Anakin told her as she stared down in awe at her old Jedi lightsaber which she had never expected upon seeing again. The lustrous material of the familiar hilt sparkled in the golden light in which she and Anakin were basked.

"There, uh… there was a hand attached to that," she said weakly. "Did you find that too?"

"Erm, no. No, we did not," Anakin said uncomfortably. Shmi blinked a few times as she looked up from her beloved hilt to her son's face. "I wield this blade as my own now," he said as he rotated the hilt slowly in his hands. "I want you to tell me if that is a mistake."

Bemused by this question, Shmi tilted her head curiously. "I don't understand," she said.

"In my left, I bear the blade of my father and in my right, that of my mother," Anakin said solemnly. "I keep the memory of those who raised me wherever I go." Anakin paused, his eyes oscillating rapidly as he scrutinized her strained expression. "Was the mother I loved ever real? Did you ever love me like I thought you did?"

Shmi was stunned speechless by this question. So that's how he felt? He thought that she had lied to him his whole life? While she was horrified to find out that he felt that way, she couldn't really blame him. After all, what type of a person tried to kill someone they claimed to love? A monster, that's who.

"Well? Did you?" Anakin asked, the hostility in his tone belying his evident distress. She could sense that for Anakin, everything was riding on her answer. He needed to know the truth. He would never be able to fully heal without this answer – whether it be the one he wanted or otherwise.

But the answer wasn't otherwise. Not once had she ever lied to him about that.

"Of course I did, Anakin," she told him, doing everything in her power to convey the candidness of her words. "Everything I ever did, I did it for you. I just got so… warped by my own power that I lost sight of what mattered most. I…I… " Shmi trailed off, her chin trembling so badly that it was difficult to speak. "I've always loved you, Ani," she finally managed to say, her voice garbled and thick with emotion. "And I… I forever will," she concluded with a rather inelegant sniffle.

Bowing her head in shame, Shmi covered her eyes with her hands as tears began to flow freely. Her shoulders began to shake as great sobs wracked her body, the trial of this ordeal taking its toll upon her like none of the others had.

"Very well."

Shmi lowered her hands from her eyes and looked up at Anakin. He had returned her lightsaber to his belt and was meeting her gaze with a firm resolve.

"If you really mean that, I am willing to move on."

Shmi gave a hearty sob as she hastily wiped away the snot from her nose with her quivering left hand. "I mean it, Ani," she insisted with the utmost desperation. "I mean it, I mean it. I love you, Ani. I love you."

Anakin nodded once and his lips twitched in the subtlest of smiles. "I know," he said.

Unable to stop herself, Shmi threw herself into Anakin's chest and wrapped her arms around him with all the strength she could muster. Her eyes were shut tight, but the tears continued to flow unimpeded. Anakin too seemed to be crying, but he had managed to maintain his dignity far more so than she had.

They rocked back and forth in the center of the atrium for minutes on end, each of them relishing the restoration of their bond. Pressing her forehead against Anakin's neck, Shmi was unable to cease murmuring her apology into his ear. To her great relief, Anakin didn't try to stop her like Qui-Gon would have. He must have understood how good it felt for her to say those simple words.

I'm sorry.

And she was so, so sorry. But even more so than that, she was happy. For the first time in perhaps… ever. She was happy. The fracture she had inflicted upon her family had finally been mended.

That didn't mean that everything had been made right. It hadn't. What she had done could never, and should never be forgotten.

But it had been forgiven.

And because of that she was free. Both of them were now free.

Their chains were no more.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first sat down to write this story this summer, I never imagined that it would span thirty years and over 200,000 words. Once I got started, however, I found it impossible to stop. Writing the ending was therefore the hardest part for me. I delayed writing the last two chapters as long as I could because I didn't want to say goodbye to these characters with whom I have spent so much time. Perhaps you might have a similar feeling. Regardless, now that the deed is done I would like to thank each and every one of you for reading and providing feedback. It's extremely gratifying as an author to receive criticism of any kind, so I appreciate all of your reviews.
> 
> The original conception of this story featured Shmi Skywalker as the estranged Sith apprentice of Darth Plagueis who had ran away to Tatooine after becoming pregnant with Anakin. It would have been a fairly simple story, with Qui-Gon discovering Shmi and Anakin on Tatooine without knowing about Shmi's dark past. I felt that this would have been a disservice to Shmi's character, however. I find it to be a much more fulfilling story to have a character descend to the darkness and return to the light only after much tribulation rather than merely being dark in the beginning and being redeemed at the end (*cough* Kylo *cough*). Therefore I restructured the story. I made Shmi a Jedi rather than a Sith. I gave her an endearing yet flawed personality which I hoped the readers could relate to. In short, Shmi's life was full of contradictions. She was accomplished and powerful, yet also shy and unconfident. She was dogmatic and devoted to the Jedi Code, yet also blatantly defied it by marrying Qui-Gon. The most crucial contradiction of all, however, was that she loved her husband yet was unwilling to commit herself to him until the very end.
> 
> Ultimately, this is a story about love and family. In fact, Star Wars as a whole is predominantly about these things, or at least for me it is. That's what makes it so powerful and poignant despite also being objectively fantastical and ridiculous to an extent. Shmi may be a lightsaber-wielding space wizard, but nevertheless we can still relate to her on a deeply intimate level. You can feel sorry for her even after she commits the most heinous of offenses and you can root for her even when you know she is traversing down the wrong path. She is simultaneously the protagonist and the antagonist. You can hate her and love her at the same time like Anakin does. And at the end I hope you can come to forgive her.


End file.
